HUFFNER: A blitzkrieg of grey swarms my senses while I sit, gladly doing my duty. As this belt speeds by, carrying the bodies of those young past. I can see them pulling the last bag from the boat. It seems ripped from its journey. Human dust spills everywhere, clogging my lungs. It’s hard to breathe, and this cloud speaks to me of memories gone cold. One more bag before the five o’ clock bell. This cloud, it speaks to me of your end. Those bags could be anyone - they could be me or they could be you. Murder from failure, crush them all, bones to ash - life to dust. Give me the strength to sift these bones. I don’t know if I can take it. This may be too much. Save yourself from the walls that you are hiding in; it can get so lonely. This is actual murder, can’t you see the change? Take my arm and run. Who wouldn’t do the same? Give me this poor child. There, lay his legs out straight. Help me bind them tight, and place his head in this. (Walk, die, fight, run.) Hear this. Let me grind him to dust. Let this world swallow us.
Lyrics submitted by BulletproofScales