utiful" in a violent sense of the word.
The skin peels away - as I spill your guts.
There's nothing sweeter than the taste of the blood of a rapist.
Stand triumphant and decorate with the fabrics that you were once made of.
And suffocate remorse.
Realize that your actions were so beautiful in a violent sense of the word.
As time passes on, there is no shadow of doubt or guilt.
I did to ensure... you will burn.
Holding the blood reigns to success,
I have lead a one man army.
I'd like nothing better than to sever your head and set that pig on fire.
As time passes on, there is no shadow of doubt or guilt.
But I must admit, I fill much pants better as I do my cell, withering into old age.
It's so wrong to do what's right,
but I still think they've persecuted a hero,
because you'd be on my side if this happened to your little brother.


2. That Certain Special Ugly

A flower for poor Rose, took the hope away.
A life full of lies. Bad joke. Thanks, Mom.
The bow breaks and the cradle falls.
The ugly seed has been sowed.
And as you know, it's gravity that fucks us all, as pieces fall on top of us.
You've looked it up and looked it and just can't deny what you think.
Research it all you want.
Exam and deduce it whatever way it can.
It sucks living life on the wrong side of the ugly stick.
On impact the lungs collapsed.
Cut two holes so I can breathe.
The ugly face voice took all hope away.
A life based on lies. Bad joke. Thanks, Mom.
With a mug like this, you're damn right I'm bitter.
The worst joke they could have told is indicating
that there might have been a sense of hope.
That looks aren't everything; that beauty is only skin deep;
that the world is not so critical and superficial;
and that people can be whatever they want to be,
because based on your appearance at birth,
you may have just lost that freedom.
There was a time that I could live without a sense of pride and a sense
of hope;
a sense of face and dignity;
and attempt to survive on meals full of lies.
That time is not now.


3. Catalepsy

Over and over constantly, I see the face smiling at me.
It is a mere reflection of human wretchedness.
Our sins bleed a smile upon the face.
Corpse fucked knows what lies on the other side.
To bask and burn in the deeds of the guilty and the wretches.
Our skin peels and burns reflecting off the glimmering white
over and over and over inside my mind.
Over and over constantly, I see the face smiling at me.
It is a reminder of our own insecurities.
Guilty remain melted together, our turn to hate all that remains.
Today's a day like any other day.
You just can't escape the pain and the tragedy or help wondering,
"Why this man smiles?"
The young get old and the old get older
and they are all soon melted together.
The tragedy and wondering "why is this man smiling?"


4. Like A Train Through A Pigeon

Avarice and stubbornness - converge into stupidity.
In two we have begotten our desserts and transform.
As we become food for the earth and for the rats.
I never forget a face and this time I'm taking names - this time I'm...
Screech and pop of this hollow shell would have provided escape for the
fortunate.
The fortunate I am not, as I have lived for hours.
My dying image, my innards are ripped
and picked away by my "comrades" literally and figuratively,
the teeth goes through the tongue.
I am willing to die for my fair share and for my share I have died.
If I wake before I die, there'll be hell to pay.
But for my share, I'm left in half, so I guess I'm fucked.
Screech and pop of this hollow shell would have provided escape for the
fortunate.
There were never signs of slowing down as it ripped right through me.
If I could just die before my children eat me,
literally and figuratively,
the teeth go through the tongue.
Am I dying or just waking up?
Am I dying or just waking up?
I'm in half. Mass Killing Spree.
If we all could just die before our children eat us.
Like a train through a pigeon.
I'm now filled with empathy.
If we all could just die before our children eat us.
A failure to move will result in your death.


5. He Was Stretching, And Then He Climbed Up There

[instrumental]


6. Breed The Cancer

Festering stench in the air - rotten.
The black and filth all around - breeds.
The masses breed this cloud that is slowly blackening our lungs.
The ashes cinchur and slowly destroy, turning the pink flesh to rot.
The rot, stench and filth slowly bring decay.
Resurrect yourself.
You have become a slave to nicotine.
Yellow stains on pink flesh, every time you spark it up.
You are but a slave.
You are forever a slave.


7. L Formation

You play the role as a pawn.
With my rook, I will destroy.
Coining the term "Blowjob Rock" with such integrity.
Did you think I could respect?
Control and erase.
Masking your intentions in a blanket of sensitivity,
and hiding behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses,
you create and perpetuate a new breed of sexual predator.
You play the part as a pawn with such integrity.
With my rook, I will destroy.
So now you know.
Watch yourself.
Control and erase.
Now you know - watch yourself - you're in check.
Control and erase.


8. Dreaming In Dog Years

Searching for a mode and for a method.
What's he thinking and what the fuck is he saying?
And does it matter anyway?
"Never again..." I begin to think,
as the liquid seeps in and the agony escapes my lungs.
The simple concept of trust.
You can't take back some mistakes.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
And while I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Searching for mode or motivation... what was I thinking?
Dreaming in dog years.
And though I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Be it seven seconds or seven years,
it doesn't matter when you're dreaming in dog years.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ,
it was such a pity to throw what we had away Dreaming.
Now, I'm not afraid to die.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ, what a pity.
You threw it all away. Dog years.
Now I'm not afraid to die.
There's nothing left. Dreaming.
Splitting headaches and random thoughts...what matters anyways?
Hypertension? Diabetes?
I had it all, now I can't feel my legs.
I heard the metal clank, and Guy just sold out good ole' Bud.
And it's not gonna be all right.
And it's not going to be "ok."


9. Sixteen Bit Fingerprint

No more short jokes. No more "you're weak."
Take you inside, fuck you up.
The way I deal with this pain, take you in digital, take you inside fuck
you up.
No more short jokes and no more "you're weak."
Take you inside, fuck you all!
Digital Babysitters. Don't tell me I can't win.
My sixteen-bit Fingerprint, this is game over again.
Press B to continue. Press B to continue.
It's the sixteen-bit fingerprint that makes me feel alive
and keeps some power within my hands.
As the bones ride, through the fingers and through the hands.
With every click there's constant fervor, preserving his livelihood.
The bone ride, taking steps closer to your digital grave.
The bones ride through... Taking you across.
And as the bones ride through the skin;
There's bloody stumps instead of fingerprints.
Living under constant pressure - calling your self to arms.
Nintendo systems serving as a Mom.
I'd rather see you drown than let you use this bridge, old man.
The name is Bagu. Show my note to river man.
It's all about the connections these days.
No one rides for free.
But you won't take me alive, I swear.
I'm past the point of learning.
As the bones ride through the skin...
there's bloody stumps instead of fingerprints.
I think he's going to snap.