Lyrics:
Hand-in-hand we fall, we fall
(You know it's obvious
Words can't describe you
But I do love creating combinations
Of the ones that I know help
I'd sell my heart
shirt and a mature smirk
that shows my soul to be nothing of worth
Finger-painting and typing, my marvelous hands at work
The difference in creating for
Exploiting me like an open book
As I speak I can feel a tormenting pain within myself
Creating an un-nerving disorder
Controlling me body and soul until I
world within.
A place where I am wandering.
I'm lost without my world within.
A place where I am wandering.
Now please don't stop creating this.
In the mouth of madness
In the mouth of madness
Paid to investigate
Creating his own fate
Revealing the biggest scam
In the town
hauls
Are never endingly creating
Monuments to snakes
That change their skin
Miserable descendants of Sisyphus
Just play their role
As body obeys
peaks.
The songs of birds fill the air,
Creating symphony upon symphony.
The goddess is calling for and honoring
Of what she allows to be created
From
in her feet
She's a preacher deprived from her voice
A punctured lung is creating noise
The cry that she made was the cry of a dying child
Sensory pleasure replaced by neurological distraught
Virulence of cryptographic perfection; immiscible disconnection
Save self by creating an inhibition
comprehend.
A mufti-dimensional struggle, to keep 'intelligent' life subdued
Creating an unnatural, yet necessary universal balance.
A battle almost fast.
circle out world, creating a linked community:
Linking us all without awareness, nurturing the 'virus': the evolutionary solution.
Continually developing.
turn me into a mental maniac
You think ya zaniac, when I'm outsane
Creating more mysterious, curious shit than a Dr. Strange
Had a full capacity
But it's not now
Countless chasms of human fantasy
Creating Horrors and nothing divine
End of all days
Perished in Flames
Souls damned for
honestly with how we feel, and who we really are
That's what grown-ups do
That is mature thinking
I just have to know how to be in the process
Of creating
the pain of waiting
We'll only end up hating the child we may be creating
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, by society
Love child, always second best
wrong
I keep hearing the same old song.
When your head still falls to fail
You're creating what is real
And only anger doesn't pay
I have to learn
spectacular, smooth like an Acura
Yo, check my vernacular
You need to devote more
Time into rhyming if you're hoping for dope scores of folklore
Creating
My cauterizing implements Are Heating in the fire - creating A New
Species of imbiguites
I'm Your God And Savior.
I'm Vascectomite...
The pain controls your anger that's inside
Creating emotional suicide
Your fits of rage killing love of the innocent
Death is your final judgment
You
Everybody's just consuming
What the media's dictating
And they all have just forgot
The joy that is to creating
Here in the heart of Europe
No one stands
your water supply
With a war to survive I slaughter and mortify
Creating a torture guy be forced and falsified
And duplicated and authorised
I autograph
On my journey towards.
I gather the darkness
And the cold silence
Surround me
Towards I Roam
Creating a hole in the world
Into the dark.forever
a gate
Creating a fracture
In the line of the time
of black path of clad
Darkness standing in arches of hell fire ream
Meddles creating an end pushed rhythm of the time
Meddles spilling the blood
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