آهنگ: Program (The). Artificial Unintelligence. Use Your Machine Gun Arm.

Cross me off the list, of loves of your life
Place me on a quaint dish, just for your pretty mouth to devour
Witness my sweetness Turn Sour, Half past the hour.
And we don't seem to be getting anywhere.

Do you believe in happy endings, mending the scars of the past?
Open flesh wounds begging for salt, that we've found on the cheeks where tears once had passed.
A trap door to the dungeon where cuffs and Chains bind those held as contraband,
from the battlefield of where hearts will stand.

Are You tired by now? Worn out?
Time's closing in on still, we slow down
All of the times that blood spilt the Ground
Fills the pools of sorrow

You've burnt out this body, burnt out this mind
My collection of urns filled with ashes define.
What we've become, useless dust, so worthless, so useless

I'm on my back prepared for sacrifice
Slide your dagger between each rib of mine
Spell it out L. O. V. E. I'm so fucking sick of it