If Hope Dies - Seige Equipment For Spiritual Decline Тексты

Those roads and streets they cut.
They cut off circulation.
Just like chains around my wrists.
Yeah.
Pushing me in these same directions.
Caught in a maze of dull routine.
A body in motion, a mind crippled in inertia.
Looking for an avenue of escape.

Begging for release, from these paths worn thin.
The feelings that I