Nothing

I scrape my name off the seven sins of excessI hang my pickled brain on the rusty nail of successI scratch my sodden, sin-stained eyesI scratch my sodden, sin-stained eyesWith the suffering of my kin and kindWith the suffering of my kin and kindWith the suffering my killing's kindMy killing kindMy killing kindMy killing's kindMy killing's kindI wanna know how you feel from the inside outI wanna know how it feels out of my sinside on your insideI'm on the insideThis is the anthem of the dispossessedThis is the endless chain that sprouts aggressionThis is the bigotry that grows and grows into oppressionI am the poison water that lies within your wellThese words are wind though you wear them wellThe wretched blade turns to your wristsEndows it with its special giftsI scratch my sodden, sin-stained eyesI scratch my sodden, sin-stained eyesWith the suffering of my killing kindMy killing kindMy killing kindMy killing's kindMy killing's kind