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I am bought and sold by the traders of men; a product of my environment, disfigured from the outside in.
I'm not safe feeling comfortable in my own skin. I always find a way to hide it, to fit in.
I want out. Let me out.
I can't hide in a dead herd any longer.
I want out. Let me out.
I'm starting to think I am what I see, and it's not me.
Our shepherds are wolves. Our shepherds are executioners.
Death to the self, not to the soul.
I want out. Let me out.
Kill me quick.
I am bought and sold by the traders of men; a product of my environment, disfigured from the outside in.
Human traffic themselves to what sells, becoming the desire itself.
We feast on consumers.
Power hungry CEOs have hardened my mind and soul.
Now I am but a body to clothe.
- Album:
- Rothschild