Never finding a way outnThey were finding some way innIs it always some bullshit rotting from inside?nTorn away from the soulnHollow in betweennCarry out your paper fornEvery movement savednEvery piece is torn awaynAny movementnStep into the rocket like a noble cadetnDreadfulnFalling from the pocket of another sadistic mannSinking in my stomach like a Johnston lamentnSewn to the pocketnGentle value of the soulnThat seems a waste of a battlenThat bleeds the taste from a bottlenChemicalnStrapped into a rocket