Sixteen Pages Lyrics

A manuscript
Reasoned out a senseless act
In black and white
Molding monsters out of ash.

The cameras roll
Grainy faces gray with fear.
The ratings climb
Making movies out of death. Out of death!

Can you feel this?! Will you forget?!

'Surprise!', he said
I've got a present for you
And everyone like you.

Bring me your tired and your broken down
Blind from the lights and deaf from hollow sound
The Day of Judgment will be televised
We'll live forever on the celluloid.

What's best for you?: die a choreographed death
With everyone watching
With hungry eyes
We'll devour your flesh for a thousand re-runs.