dry heat, dead land. dry heat, dead land. when floods cover this place. nothing rooted will be safe. roots bind us to suffering and pain. without roots we can run away. where has all I've known gone. adaptation is not a skill. but a disease. pure anger is all I know. faces of trust. melted by disgust. may be I'll stab you in the back. may be I'll take my life back. conscience has not bred inside of me. I'm not a fool. when the end comes. I'll be ready. with or without you.