| My main vantage point is I use live ammunition
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| I’ve survived the restrictions that make my mic flow such addiction
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| Friction leads to fire, crews could get burned
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| How much ink I just injected is none of your concern
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| Unless your on terms of understanding with the meager
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| Eager to be mute so you can inherit the heater
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| I can tell you’re not graced in the study of conflict
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| The grace for words of doom to pick my verse to be convict
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| I’ve seen other schools of thought teach a class
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| I stand the grounds in colours of glass and Sunday Mass
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| So I ask who plays the lead role of darkness in my cast?
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| Taste my torture, sweet words of the warlock
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| A filthy minded mongrel, make sure the door’s locked
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| I adore addiction, blood shed and depression
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| Flesh and skin cover my skull, shine with aggression
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| Emerald eyes and golden strains
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| A painful voice, pale skin and acid rain showers
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| Powerful stream of tears to trickle
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| I walk softly with a hammer and a sickle
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| A sick individual, high voltage assault
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| It with the battering ram, throwing heat with the catapult
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| Now add a jolt of electricity, extreme wattage
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| A psycho in the forest with an axe that ransacks your cottage
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| It’s all fucked up in this bitch
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| The weird and the wonderful, the circus tent’s been pitched
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| Now wake up in the night in a cold sweat and scream
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| Swollen Members, English Breakfast with Vadim |