I am made of fear
and I long for violence.

I scratch at phantom pain
as my waking death of phobia
marches on.

I am weak.
I know nothing.
Catharsis will be manufactured
in blood and mechanical soul.

Through you, I will find
my redemption.

ɿɒɘʇ ʇo ɘbɒm mɒ I
.ɘɔnɘloiv ɿoʇ ϱnol I bnɒ

niɒq motnɒʜq tɒ ʜɔtɒɿɔƨ I
ɒidoʜq ʇo ʜtɒɘb ϱniʞɒw γm ƨɒ
.no ƨɘʜɔɿɒm

.ʞɒɘw mɒ I
.ϱniʜton wonʞ I
bɘɿυtɔɒʇυnɒm ɘd lliw ƨiƨɿɒʜtɒƆ
.lυoƨ lɒɔinɒʜɔɘm bnɒ boold ni

bniʇ lliw I ,υoγ ʜϱυoɿʜT
.noitqmɘbɘɿ γm