One's own Kingman, Christ person, Woman God.
At battle with a mass astringent. The bond
That blends the weak to the wise.
It's a safe assumption that you'd want
to save me now. But I'll never face castration.
For your sacred sow is left slaughtered. Brainwashed by me. Myself influence I. Bird brained World saver. A fake god rests dead inside you.
It's a safe assumption that you'd want to save me now.
But I'll never face castration. For your sacred sow is left
System destroyed. Exposed and unemployed. The fruit Of intention cry for their dead, but turning their head to Ignore reality's claw. Knife to your wrist, syringe in your
Arm is your ounce of prevention. Give what you made,
And under your name on your grave, is salvation. A big Fucking joke.
Slaughter the pig, the self-righteous king for your own
Restoration. For your God is in your chest, and faith kills
What is precious, for death is unanswered.
Written by: DARRELL LANCE ABBOTT, PHILIP ANSELMO, PHILIP HANSEN ANSELMO, REX BROWN, REX ROBERT BROWN, VINCENT PAUL ABBOTT
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind