If cunning was our birthright Then falsity became our sport Beings like trellises of roses Vines, whose beauty so splendidly hid The vicious biting of recompense Ours alone to bare and grit Self-designed deceptions Jutting out of our skin Warning all passers-by "Careful, I'm beautiful, but you wouldn't like what's within! For while reveling in my form, you'll only bleed from my sins!" Perhaps the change began in the springs of our infancy Watered with poison, stunting in its toxicity Or cutback too much in our pruning Trimmed with shaking hands, selfish neuroses Left jagged with self-loathing, insecurities But we don't have to let it dictate... Shake the death from your bones Shake the death from your bones Shake the death from your bones Shake free of the yoke, our mental oppressions No longer frozen, the key in our possession Swing open your cell, break off that rearview Even as the tree grows out of the heart of stone Our past will not dictate how tall we will grow Shake the death from your bones Shake the death from your Shake the death from your bones Will dwelling in the negatives Ever bring about the light? Will living in the darkness Ever expose what's right? (Shake the death from your bones)