Napalm Death – Twist The Knife (Slowly)

Gut level, below it all.
Out of duty – just here.

Feeling like a knife’s being twisted in the hole of how it is.

False hope, an inch of pride that died when i left to hide from non =

Stop battering of conditioned opinion.

Rest assured but not assured, all is well, but i think we’ve dealt =

With the fear for far too long.

Unborn suffer the norm.
Born to this – i thin not!
I stand against till the shit drops.

We see all but do nothing, in the hole of =b3how it is=b2.