Death March of Your Soul

You are content to silence yourself You're afraid of suffering Like the aristocrats now Just pride and greed Oh world of the dead You are deceased Yet your mouth keeps consuming Like it did before What is living in your skin? What is living beneath your skin? Demons are writhing through this thing that we call life But who are they? Who are they? Who are the real demons in this life? The police, the businessmen? Are they really all that bad? Oh yeah, they are Question not why Question not why Forget all, consume your life away Question not this death march of your soul Question not this death march of your soul Question not this death march of your soul Question not this death march of your soul