Paroles: And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. The Century Of Self. Insatiable (Two).

Mourn as a nation, rule as a mob
Kill for an insult so slight
The further they plummet, the blinder they are
Each one believing they're right

I'm the monster and I exist
On this summit I am lost
On its slopes I've seen the world
As she was meant to be seen