(Composição: John Campbell, Mark Morton, Randy Blythe, Willie Adler, Chris Adler) Sloth is the enemy of greatness Reflection a scalpel to my mind. We strive as you leisurely criticize A free ride until you find that you've dug your own grave Lie by lie. Just a running mouth Poison words you throw about Drag you to your end The number six Leviathan. You've dug your own grave with your spite You've dug your own grave lie by lie A cancer that needs to be cut out Sweet slander the razor to your throat Trim the fat A loose end to be tied up and cast aside Left to find that you've dug your own grave. A relentless imposition by a self-fulfilling travesty From one who is just rotting there In slut's wool and zero history Aesthetic condemning Erratic condescending An empty barrel always makes the most noise And I begin to feel my hands around your throat. You've dug your own grave with your spite You've dug your own grave lie by lie A running mouth and poison words will be your end The number six Leviathan
