As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper,
Thoughts turn acrid and curl like cigarette smoke
Rising from a butt ground out on my arm.
Step into this decay and experience dissolution.
Crucified on a plank of cruelty,
Crucified on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away.
Immobile for the cold duration.
Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away.
Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/b/burn_the_priest/lies_of_autumn.html