The Man That I Was Not

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Fit for an Autopsy

Fit for an Autopsy is an American deathcore band from Jersey City, New Jersey, formed in 2008. The band consists of guitarists Will Putney, Pat Sheridan and Tim Howley, drummer Josean Orta, lead vocalist Joe Badolato, and bassist Peter "Blue" Spinazola. Fit for an Autopsy are currently signed to Nuclear Blast Records and have released four studio albums since formation. more »

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Beggars can’t be choosers, unless they opt out of the game.
In rose colored relief, empty out a glass of my own veins.
I kicked that back when self improvement sounded oh so sound.
A toast to the good old days.
They’ll be rats here soon if it stays this quiet.

Let ‘em in, Let ‘em stay.
At least something gets what it wants.
Let ‘em in, Let ‘em stay.
Make me the man that I was not.

I’ve dug this grave a hundred times.
The dirt, exhausted as the mind.
Make me the man that I was not.
Cold feet at the altar of fire.
Inhale the ash until the lungs retire.
Make me the man I was not.
We are worlds apart.

A phantom in a fossilized city,
where familiar alleys of dirt and stink hide a disposable culture.
Into a vacuum of hope, we sink.
Phantom pain, phantom love in chest cavities.
Be gone, move on, as the teeth bite the tongue to taste what is asked for.

You will get what you want.
You will get what you need.
Get what you deserve, ask and you shall receive.
You will get what you want.
You will get what you need.
Get what you deserve, you get nothing.
Let us be forgotten.

Make me the man that I was not.

I’ve dug this grave a hundred times.
The dirt, exhausted as the mind.
Make me the man that I was not.
Cold feet at the altar of fire.
Inhale the ash until the lungs retire.
Make me the man I was not.
We are worlds apart.

Let ‘em in, Let ‘em stay.
At least something gets what it wants.
Let ‘em in, Let ‘em stay.
Because the god that gives always takes away.

Grieve. Servant. Lesser man.
Plead to close the hole inside, betrayer of self.

The paradise we dream, just an oasis in the abyss.
I’ve dug this grave a hundred times, if only to not exist.
In the tragedy between earth and sky, where suffering collides,
we are worlds apart.
There will never be a light for the black hearts.

There will never be a light for the black hearts.

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