Оригинален текст
Archaic methods transfer through well in the face of mass denial.
Bitterness fuels the mode for the escape of mediocrity.
Stepping the grate, shattered nerves ground down to a glass edge carrying me away.
Bloodletting a favorite game of solitaire.
A suicide mission destined to fail, a moving ladder to climb taking me away.
I wouldn't have it any other way.