Tekster: Anacrusis. What You Became.

You've grown into this faceless mask and empty shell
And like a ghost of your indulgence, you wear them well
Still haunting something, by your own hand, lost and you shiver
With the chilling sense, you've saved nothing for yourself

The lies, the games, devoid of guilt or shame
Now you resent what you became
And the reality of only you to blame

You wander through each desperate hour and numbered day
And long to hold each wasted moment spent in vain
Still missing something you've slain so wrecklessly and ignored it
Through shortsightedness, the thought that someday you might care

The lies, the games, devoid of guilt or shame
Now you resent what you became
And the reality of only you to blame

Now you resent what you became
And the reality of only you to blame

You've grown into this faceless mask and empty shell
And like a ghost of indulgence, you wear them well
Still haunting something, by your own hand, lost and you shiver
With the chilling sense, you've saved nothing, nothing for yourself

Now you resent what you became
And the reality of only you to blame