Luyện nghe bài hát Castrate The Wreckage

I freedom
all hope was freedom
Self improve or destruct

Right in your face but not
The tip of your tongue but you taste
distortions, dark cyclones
Virtual abattoir sadists

A host to every day and night
The need for more out of life

Lost in oblivion dark and
A fear you smell or taste
The trance, the muffled cries
I await my birth

The webs of emotion
the threads of self-rejection
The secret of emotion
net for all our pain

Castrate the mental
is a thief
No antidote for
Sow the seeds you