Lyrics: Lamb Of God. New American Gospel. Black Label.

The human condition is inherit claustrophobia.
Compression of my space made complete.
I would rip out my own entrails by hand just to be alone.
Inanity rolls total through this sphere.
Ostracized for clarity of vision.
A dream unrealized of solitude that I should descend into autonomy
& know the pain of fellowship no more. I feel nothing but a lack of space.
Paradox of socialization results in duress.
Rife with hostility, what has caused me so much hate?
Humanity. Exterminate with extreme prejudice.