Disease - Dead In The Dirt

I’ll be branded as a pariah

Cast out scapegoat ripped from the wings

Cascading down in flames

To the place where limits end

Quarantined from delusions

While another regret is fat on your plate

The executioner raises his hand

And the gallows grin graces another man

Vain escape

No cure for the work week disease

One less regret

One less rope around my neck

What liberty exists in being the master

And the slave

Always against the grain

Remain outnumbered