Text: The Amity Affliction. Olde English 800.

when your aspirations
crumble at the feet
of your tormentors
and your jaw feels like its breaking
on the cold hard tile floor and you're
holding onto something that does
farm more harm than good
well then you've reached
the pits off hell
and there in hell
you'll find the steel

(to smash your skin until its calloused
to grind your teeth down to the bone
to tear your tongue out from its shelter
and bleed out all alone
when you get there
we'll tread heavy
through the boneyards and the filth
we'll grace the presence of the vultures
and spit fire of the gods)

we'll both sit in our skin
and hate the places we have known
(when your back feels like its breaking
and your skin has turned to stone)
and you are standing in the fire
and you are wishing to go back
well then you've reached the pits of hell
you've reached the pits of hell

(i took this journey through the mirror
took a chance to take my time
to watch the cold hard steel of burden
come and break my heart and spine)

i took a blade, a glass, a noose
and then I smashed my mind in two
with a bottle, pills and notion
that I could drink my problems dead
I reached the cold pits of hell
and split my bones in tow
dragged my cold heart through the snow
and felt the coldest burn of all
the grief i've come to know
the grief i've come to know

(I took this journey through the mirror
took a chance to take my time
to watch the cold hard steel of burden
come and break my heart and spine
I took this journey through the mirror
took a chance to take my time
to watch the cold hard steel of burden
come and break my heart and spine)

I've got a story here to tell you
and best you listen or grow cold
'cause if you choose the path i've chosen
chances are you won't grow old
won't grow old.