| Waiting in the woods, our perfect victims await us
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| Not knowing and relaxed, their blood will run cold with the bud seed
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| With pruning shears drawn, we stalk without emotion
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| To see the fear in their eyes, and yet to know not of their true worth
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| Chop up the hippies, boil the blood and leave no parts behind
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| Offer the flesh unto our master, on the altar the plant demands a sacrifice
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| Sacrifice, of blood and gore, to fertilize the seed inside
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| With candles lit in little time the vine begins to grow
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| Above the blood-soaked weaklings, its arms are spread apart
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| Leaves all unfolding, proud and mighty plant
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| Our avatar grows skyward, upward and out through the ceiling
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| Grabs onto the power lines, it shows its face
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| It kills for weed to smoke, bud blood-soaked, it leaves no stoners stoked
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| To make it strong, most weedy one, devouring grass, the plant demands a
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| sacrifice
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| Without thought, heads left to rot, bud-monster red-eyed beast
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| Enjoys the gore, always craving more, minion of Satan, the demon is left to feed
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| To make it strong, most weedy one, devouring grass, the plant demands a
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| sacrifice
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| Without thought, heads left to rot, bud-monster red-eyed beast
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| Enjoys the gore, always craving more, minion of Satan, the demon we have freed
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| Massive growth |