like flesh in a slaughter house
|
I know we are pleasant cowshed
|
upset like a pig in his gore
|
swim fast and fuck your needs
|
you¡¯re not alone now
|
let it go!
|
|
wanna close your eyes
|
tired of this nauseating cream
|
but strobos flash your skin
|
and you know
|
you¡¯re done, trippin¡¯ down
|
|
you can transgress now
|
rebel against what?
|
no choice, one way
|
to get rid of the shit stored
|
need some vaseline?
|
to keep good all she promises
|
can¡¯t be slave to the image
|
display your illness
|
you became slave, stupid fucker!
|
|
how long will it last
|
all a story to live
|
one thousand of cells to hive, to burn
|
from now you can begin
|
|
light dissolving in my saliva
|
under the tongue fire
|
|
claustrophobia
|
your brain is suffering inside
|
exploding
|
he found his grave in your mind
|
|
try to get up fucker
|
you¡¯re sitting or you¡¯re already standing
|
tell me which¡¯s your aftershave
|
you are a floweret by this side
|
to whom someone broke the stalk
|
|
-----------------
|
Burning Cells
|
Disarmonia Mundi |