There are a hundred voices screaming in my head

They tell me things that happen when you're dead

Their faces are blank and their decibels raises higher

The voices harmonize and suddenly it's the sound of a choir

They exist in the minds of all men but are hidden away

Because it's a blemish in an otherwise perfect display

But the stain always manages to grow in size

Before long, the problem will be too big to hide

The wiser and older men try to warn us

But we're too high on pride to hear the things they discuss

So our lives are spent wasting away to the sound

Hopped up on drugs to keep the noise down

Listen to us, the voices always whisper

But if we lean in, our skin turns to blisters

The sound lures us in with sweet covenants

Of nicer places with better governments

The words are new but the voice is from an ancient power

It comes from deep underground and it makes us all cower

It wears you down until you hit your lowest level, 

Then it asks you to make a deal, a deal with the devil