The Fevered Circle Lyrics - Terminal Spirit Disease - At The Gates

Each day a mournful pity 

Life looks upon you with scorn 

Hopes flee, visions elude 

As your feeble breath is torn 

Six sinister thorns of beauty 

The claws of the nondivine 

Our right to breathe 

Our right to bleed 

Forever denied 

What some seek in the depths of the unknown 

Need not be sought so far 

Concealed it lurks behind 

The truth of what we are 

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Each day a fevered circle 

Life looks upon you with scorn 

Six sinister claws of darkness 

Strip your flesh to the bone 

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