Bed Of Flies

all circumstance is sabotage that which does not kill 
us makes us stranger command chaotic brute force the 
stars in your eyes stolen reprogrammed another 
headless blunder with blood up its sleeves the priests 
live in the towers they put thoughts in my head making 
me sin while sinning through me mold the little shit 
figure make it dance break its legs they call it 
building character a villain to be exact