Full of Hell -

I've made it months, even years, in solitude's embrace Nothing has shown me what I cannot create Stuck on this compendium of mortality A line without a flaw I can never bring the life back to his withered breast Dead at 18 years, now my head's a fucking mess Everyone is waiting for the end of the line Immutable truth There is nothing that can take what is dead There is nothing that can take what is dead & make it green There is nothing that can take what is dead & convince it to grow Vessel is deserted (dirt) Capillaries dry (holds) The world soldiers onward (no) The line is absolute (sway) Lament's only verdict (over) The line is absolute (me) No sway over me