Pieces of worship

As the blind slithers on it`s way out, this brief moment of awareness I adore. and my worship of the golden calf, leaves me abundant with pain these pieces of me i try to end these pieces of me i pretend
i hale mr. numb, the companion of miss nausea sweet fornicating friends of mine it`s never recommended to blow down a neck, if you don`t have an angle on it let`s intake, inhale, exhale, a mistake
come along imbibe all of this. you won`t miss a thing no regrets, no remorse over the loss what irreverent subdue crawls out in the fabricated mist that we call socialization, wave it all goodbye!

The golden arch symphony

Finally I found myself a channel, a realization that opposes the majority.I've witnessed my inner expression, through those who won't compromise.
Critics, let your loath, come thick and fast over this.
My opinion still stand cos' the paper wolves are gathering again.A phenomenon that gives pleasure to the subjective violence.
Critics, let your loath, come thick and fast over this.
As the stones hit the shield, pressure is released.Along the aftermath manipulation is overwhelmingly reeking. My tiny part of trust died that day.

Confessions of a serial self-murderer

Ploughing through the dead soil, returning with a parched home.Stuck in the transitory, but where the hell shall I turn, when every-corpse is facing the wall?I toss it down, with every button pressed down.But the sensation is merely a bleak image of a world above.
A try to asphyxiate.A chance to liberate, but will I die trying?I see the screen, I land and I bleed. God, can't you see I'm drowning?I hear the choir, to whom? The liar! Hang him high now! Hang him high now!
Crawling through the dead soil returning with a heartless home.Stuck in the transitory, but where the hell shall I turn, when every-corpse is making the wall?I toss it down, with every button pressed down.But the sensation is merely a bleak image of a world above.
I reveal, and now suffer the consequences of being a heathen.In the midst of the orthodox, it's a terrible thing to say.
Giving in is living in the dim. Fumbling in a combustible site with matches made of coal.

This ghost town includes a fools paradise

Hey spooky boy, how do you do? Got a credit card for amassing souls? So what's the price? A million lifetimes? A bargain in the eyes of a madman.
Let's bring on the tyranny of a majority. Now we can obtain the hollow me.
Let's get it on. Bold letters and a quick fix to ruin a good call.A hellish spree returning, the rides aren't waning. Neverlasting tries of hailing.
And then came death…It was just a quirk of faith. A quiet setting of human waste. We are solely waiting. Anticipating heavenly labouring.

Ambient so Ambivalent

Between the profane and the sacred.I lay my head down to sleep. So completely bored, can we check it? I want release from this slandering.
You try to intellectualise my heart.You try to analyse my love. I fire cooling (soothing) rounds, into your flies. Do you mind? Do you mind!?
I should be counting marbles, Instead of reading theory.This world contains of hard fouls, and of persons like that of Mr Leary

Post - Natal

underline, sign my statements, rectify, all where i fail, testify, on my judgement day, now i die, fill in the gaps i leave plaster my broken values don´t prove me wrong nurse the child i abandon a piece from us all tie me around my waist now please hold on as i explore the darker sides, too scared to fall compensate my shortcomings, in life find the skeletons, i hide

Quencher

Another thirst that we strive to get slaked. It's a long time since the knees were bent to pray. All stale, worn and afflicted. Obnoxious to the real and non-addicted.Intrusive as it may seem. But the exposés left you questioning. So here's the inhalator. Now breathe!
So push it on. So push it on. Against an evil deed, that stands with soldiers-hate and greed.So push it on. So push it on.Against an evil deed, a hero be indeed.
To rise against a common foe, the illusion that we are made of stone.I live to die. I detest the shore; "Eye for an eye".I die to live, and repay all my sins. I cut the ties of my hankering.So here's the injection. Now live!
Don't shut it out. Don't shut it out. In ablaze and shimmering; a fire knowledge from within.
The quencher!

Irreligion

The blade shines again, stained with horror and pain.Religion killed again; the religion of dust and scorching rain.Red dyed water to fill oceans; I cry out, voice of the voiceless.
Religion killed again; the religion of dust and scorching rain.
"Whose child is on the menu today?"Wash it down with a bottle full of non-memory.
"Which limbs do you recommend?"Wash it down and drown your brain.

Stop beating around the bush

"Little people gather around, here's a brand new story.""A little secret will I reveal if you kneel and follow order.""Follow me!"
"I'll gather my benevolent herds. To make sure you don't come by"But we are the antonyms. The cause of your demise. We are fortified.
While papers precede faces, your glowing features resemble faeces.Our howling will resound, there are no boundaries.
Release the cogs from this machine. Relentless and stern are these tricks.Alive and kicking infantry. A boundless militia; reaching globally.
Make way, make way! For the new world order. Stay away, stay away! And please don't bother.

Soul Survivor

We stuck our ears with noise of the mundane men. We fill our mouth with words from a shattered soul. We bleed for the sake of becoming known.We "cheat" death by turning our cheek.
A fanatic ingrained in the hollowness of the mind.Empty, with a vigorous costume, so glorious but branded.Where love of life ends; your day descends.
Caress the carcass of your (rotting) heart.
Spiritual murder

Bloodline

Sickening and frivoling devotion. I couldn't care less. Endless compromising. Where last steps brings end to an injustice game where nobody wins.
Lamenting when in distance, frowning when space decline.Work like no other. I laugh when I cry.
This is where I end the bloodline.I take goodbye; adios I'm gone.

The city of 9 gates

As she moves into the stronghold, her firm grip burns like a fire strip, but we perceive it like it was a cool breeze on a hot summer night.
I feel dead to this world. Death avoids me. Death is mockery
This is where romance is reduced and used, forgotten, in oblivion it resides.
(Self-sacrifice is necessary.) Do you follow my advice?

Just try to understand this world and it's night.
Revelations are for your kind.
I'm sure if you'll cry out, you will find ****.

Broken lips and hardening fists that's haunting every construction.
Very gravely she sings her lullabies, over our teeny little lives.