Habitual Sphere
Pain in my eyes, in my head, in my soul. Pain
for the way that you take control. Pain for the way that your kissing my skin.
Pain is
the key that will let you in. Pain is the feeling that's never subsiding. Pain
is the word that the whole world is fighting. Pain keeps on
growing 'cause you are all lying. Pain is my friend now that everyone's dying.
Pain on my hands. Pain on my feet. Smile on my
face. Death so sweet. A habit of fear. A habit fear. Fear is here in my habitual
sphere. Begin the mutation to a castrated witch.
Implode through my arteries, slice off that bitch. I will be strong yet body so
weak. Through death I live, true death I seek. A habit
of fear. A habit of fear. Fear is here in my habitual sphere. Fear is here in my
habitual sphere. |
Compound Pressure
I am the scumbag that you want to kick, because
your girl - she sucked my dick. Frustration eats you from inside, knowing I got
a
piece of her hide. So we laugh at you as I'm flying the cum, I'm the home
wrecker and the damage is done. Your little slut, whore,
wife won't be the same, you make her cum - she screams my name! COMPOUND
PRESSURE! You have no power, I devour. I got a
big fat cock and I shot her face, swallowed my spunk with no disgrace. Did her
doggy style up her fucking ass, BILE style - bloody
and fast! Let all my friends dog her when I was through, she was thinking of you
when she fucked my whole crew. I'm the lowest
motherfucker now that is true, but I fucked your woman to get back at you.
COMPOUND PRESSURE! You have no power, I devour.
You ain't nothing, how does it feel? |
Interstate Hate Song
I'm drinking the chalice, that is filled with
BILE. There is no love, just hatred, bleed with a smile. A slit wrist, a big
kiss, send you on
your way. Come down here with me, and blacken my day. They've already killed
you, you can't be alive. There is no
indestructible, no one survives! They've already killed you, you are not alive!
You are not alive! No one survives! Disagreement,
argument, judgement, then war! Peaceful harmony - these things I abhore! A
bonfire, a bullet, burnt at the stake. I hate you, I
hate you, I hate you! I HATE! |