It is about the power of the hand,. the power of the man. Mastering your mind. It is about stimulation,. that of a firm grip. How to use your hands. It is about imagination.
My world view shattered when prophecies failed. I loathe this world, it makes me sick. I am tired of eating/vomiting out the lies. Confused, beaten, crippled by this life.
Reaping the holy from their misery...forever. Harvest of hell believers weep. Total destruction of whore mankind...perish. Sign of the times hellbound unity.
Penis et circes. Dominate the weaklings. Ecstatic whippings. Iron and chains. Branding the slaves. Mastering the games. chorus: Hail Satan, master, weeping christians burn at stake.
Their censure forced the decision. Their murder forced by incision. . With furtive defiance I ended their lives. My allegiance to the scalpel has reshaped mine.
Ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome from Los Angeles California... PUNK. . RIGHT. . Come on come on. What's your name. P.U.N.K... PUNK. . Heavy metal punk.
Well I believe in the power of love,. It give me strength to carry on. It's the only hope that keeps me alive,. When I feel I can't go on. . Out in the streets I've seen a thousand empty eyes.
You can see it in your life. You can feel it hold you tight. And I know just where you go. 'cause you're hiding from the light. You can't deny the fear in your mind.
I'm sucking on a 40 with friends who just adore me. Oh how they love that old English accent. They of the black persuasion, missed out of being African.
Searching for someone so long. To fill this hole in my heart. I've tried everything I could find. Nothing could set me apart. I've been searching for all my life.
I lean my head against the glass of the chilled, cold window.. Feel of cold pulls me back to memories of the past;. I fell down on the ground, colored stones with my blood....
I'm painting my sorrow with these dark colors. I immortalize my painful ife into this work of art. . Night after night. At the attic in dim candlelight.
Eve of the cold I take a walk outside;. To escape the inner fight... Wind blows the snow over my troubled soul;. Pain that won't leave me alone... . Under the burden that makes me insane;.
I sense the darkness. To me it's real. And so the purity of sadness. For me a better deal. . When you think of the devil. You better think of me. Your own best companion.
Come on, I'll help you. I'll save you, regain you and feel you. Didn't mean to, wasn't intended. To make you wanna cry. Listen, yeah listen. You got to, you need to, I want you.
I say: To be living brings me down. In a way, I'm what you call a pimp. . Soap won't wash away your shame. I'll sell, whatever there's to be sold. In hell, I'd sell my own poor soul.
Tucked in the woods. Near North Chicago. Early November. Commences our saga. Two loved in silence. For fear of corruption. Then fate chimed in. With an evil grin and a mighty interruption.
I won't forget you. You won't forget me. I will choose to forget you. . One again my body will lay cold. Once again your body will lay cold. With no breath left you have died there.
You close your tired eyes. Sometimes you have to let go. I feel these feelings as they tremble away. . You have said your good byes to me. In my memory this is just another fond farewell.