Can you hear them out there? Can you hear them out there? The war drums, the battle cries, calling you to dance, calling you to die. Oh, can you hear them OUT THERE!!!? Securing the new religion with mindless, violent acts. Are you sure you want this? Well do you believe in the revolution? Are you ready? Let me see, let me see it. Children, now it's time for a story. And it's about this girl I know and how she used to trust people like priests and police and politicians, and parents and cowardly fucking presidents and people of power...and all she got in return was pain, but all she got in return was pain. Oh all she got in return...was...PAIN! And his reply, oh with the devil in his eye was shhh...(hahaha.) Just be quiet now...(hahaha.) See it was, uh, a night of lies, it was a sick quick compromise, it was...it was the devil in his eyes, it was innocence, slithering down her thighs, it was...it was his fucking fist in (*punching sound* no...NOOO...NO! don't, stop) her fucking side and why, WHY! why??? Cause there was a baby (no) barely three months alive, but I survived (haha). Too stubborn to succumb to the dripping jaws of the dominant paradigm. Cause it began as all tragedies do...with a bruise and a blister, a lie and a whisper. It's spirit so deep, it's just out of reach, these hooks and...splinterrrRRRRRsss.
Hey. Is there anyone here that would like to confess they're sins to me tonight? (I just want to...) Place your face between my thighs and talk to god. Well tell me, tell me terrible things, that's fine. Tell me your most beautiful fantasy. Tell me, tell me...tell...me...tell me why the soul must rot. Tell me why you lack a single fucking original thought. TELL MEEEE!!!! Through these jungles of fire and past these mountains of peer power. Well this world, this world is a fucking holocaust and it's...eating me. Religion has failed us. Our leaders have failed us. All we have left...is art. And the living fires into the eternal infernal. So bring out your dead. Here comes the warhead. Plagues, pestilence, disease, the fall...of the great American suicide.
Hey, wait, what do we have here? Is it complete and total mutiny of the senses...(yeah, yeah, yeah). A secret society performing social experiments and spiritual archaeology. Hiding beneath the cloak of heavy truth, the brutality of reality is that there is not one absent moment that I can stop being me. i will tell you a story, 5 lifetimes old, i will tell you a secret, i will let you see with my words, i will let you burn and observe for where i go you can only follow so come with me... i can show you faces, take you to these far away places, bring back all those hidden memories, all those terrifying moments of emptiness, rumaging through piles of life, searching for my identity just come with me...no no!!!! i dont want to go, i dont want to feel, i dont want to think, i dont want to rememeber any fucking thing!!!! just come with me ok ok ok but this is the last fucking time...
And I heard it...and it was like, it was like 3:37 or something and...someone in the alley was murdering an animal for its skin. (*Screaming*) And it's so cold, it's so cold out there, I can still remember it...SCREEEEEEAMMMMM!It was like they were skinning a newborn...baby. (It sounds like...) Oh...and it sounds like...Armageddon. (*whispers*)
This is a song called cutter. Same sound its the same sting, its the same collapse of everything, its the same slice, same blade, same lie, same old vein i hurt to heal now i know its real i hurt to heal so i can feel i hurt to heal but i dont understand i just want to be better then i am.
The wind will not comfort me, Not the silence of the night, Not the shade of the blossoming moon Or the wisdom of the infant stars Or my beloved insecurities Or these loving scars. Swollen, completely broken, And mostly, well, still frozen In the insanity of needing you To chase the wolves away. Beside me, in the fire, Asleep, soft and perishable, For as long... As the moment... Lasts. Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
