Marco Polo - Lyrics - A.18

Weak left a lowly state as to scramble to gather up your will this is the foor on your neck this is the pressure and when you fall I will be there without doubt I get a sick sort of pleasure in holding you down choke on the stones that you've thrown I've collected to just cast back this is retribution come calling this is absolute if pain has a limit I'm pushed past far beyond now I pray for an answered prayer for you to be gone your voice is static a shadow fading damp and paper thing the sun for you shines less with each passing day say farewell to hideous reflection say so long to the trend you are welcome crushing devastation accept the *** you are