Sinners' Gate

Restrain my inhibitions in the prison, which I built.

Inscribe myself with red soaked fingers, hallucinating guilt.

A wraith of a stagnate world seen so clearly in their eyes.

Understand this so much more with man-made new found highs.

A labyrinth of malice designed for the machines.

Governed to follow, to be pure, by all means.

Wanting to unleash myself from the sinners' gate.

What's the difference what I fuck up, if you believe in fate.

Tack me a misanthrope against their white, white wall.

Can't help but shake the world and watch the empty fall.