Sear the guilt throbbing in our  heads, now we sleep in our blood  beds. Rid ourselves of God, the  crutch, our broken legs don't hurt  so much.    Reaching forward, falling back, the  more we progress, the more we lack.    At Nagasaki we built a sun right on  the ground. At least we won. Use  the pretty, lose the rest, it's evolution  at its best.    Lay in beds of anger, talking in our  sleep. Mumble words of vengeance,  songs of world peace.    The incense of our progress is the  burning of the weak. The wound is  self-inflicted even as we speak!    these lyrics are submitted by .