neutralized area, bright white glow, no smell, no
sound, no soul.
all circumstance is sabotage that which does not kill
us makes
encoded transmissions spun out of control bring the
purging insurrection of
aspire to reduce your world to a monitor screen.
finger fuck
humiliation outpost of snarling ugliness and dying
people. rewrite these images
i wage an unholy war against your fucked up soul
crawling over the bodies of your dead bastard children
more like
Instrumental
Instrumental
an ocean of rum tosses your pickled gut onto christ's
sword.
the clouds attacked slowly obscuring everything we
took out our eyes
the world looks like a finger painting done with
broken hands
ghost rectum, drum and pipe to silence the satellite
rings. sex
more important is what i'm not doing. theirs less to
apologize
your hope collapsed like a burning orphanage under the
weight of
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