the archetype illuminatesnmy future's slipnon a hopeless deathtripnnstop a nothingnconvalesce on the spotninert until you rotnnthrow your crossnlike a steak into the chestnon a hopeless deathtripnncrashed, scatterednblood on the filthiest handsnyour worst nightmare is this cursenndarkness, no governance surroundsnin pocket's all what's leftnon a hopeless deathtripnntwo can play this gamenjockey for superior numbersnup the flamesnnthrow your crossnlike a steak into the chestnon a hopeless deathtripnntruth can't win this kind of fightndeception is your lightnnthere's no hopenon your ownnnand now the archetype illuminates the slipnof my future on this deathtripnntruth can't win this kind of fightnhold the light