I was the whole world helping my brother die.
I was the first war pulling your voice from the sky.
I became the bad dream of a wretched society.
You're tempted by the power they gave you.
You sell yourself to lay your brother down.
What's changed in you now?
This sick sense of clarity...
It's haunting your dreams.
It's haunting everything you've made.
It's haunting everything.
Beyond this unclear holiness
and the illusion of light
I can see your face,
I can hear your name.
Let your grace fall like rain.
I chose scarlet lines over a white paper grain
so the lines would stand out.
Now raise my brother's body up.
Now there is blood on both of us.
You're sleeping in the house of your enemies,
the traitors and their sick sense of clarity.
They're desperate for the company.
Trapped inside this single state of mind;
he stares at the brink of his collapse.
My brother's past on these unholy hands.
They made me the war machine.
I am the war machine.
