| I ordinarily love bashing cats with bats, now you’re buried in bugs,
|
| then attacked by rats
|
| Die for me, inquiry, of my skitzo diaries, undeniably, a path to a higher
|
| (inaudible: change)! |
| Peep the psychiatry, flooded with termanology,
|
| vermon follow me, slice off your skin, practice dermatology!
|
| You’re over-sensitive, well i represent what offensive is, blending your
|
| appendages, giving purpose to the forensics bits!
|
| (Chorus: John Tardy):
|
| Empowered! |
| (Inaudible: Lights gone!)
|
| Willpower! |
| Yeah, yeah, i am the living, the dead!
|
| (Verse 2: Necro):
|
| I got the answers for the unexplainable, but their unobtainable into your brain
|
| is pulled out of your cranial! |
| Your hormones, must be fiending to see your own
|
| blood on your own clothes, i’m so cold, i’ll put you in a chokehold!
|
| I’m all about the swords, you used to be sick, well now you’re (inaudible),
|
| shout out to (inaudible: Lord), as the gunpowder is poured!
|
| For every positive, is negative, it’s relative, for every piece of cake you
|
| digest, there’s someone that won’t get to live!
|
| Your face is slashed like you crash in your car, and blast guts,
|
| through your flesh, when you smash into the window fast!
|
| Once you sell out, you dead, you crucified to a billboard, number one with a
|
| bullet in your head!
|
| You fucking trannies, you switched up like Marv Albert, you couldn’t handle the
|
| pressure of the business and bitched up! |
| I’ll knock your fronts out, kid,
|
| i’ll pull the guns out. |
| I need some room to breathe, i’ll cut your lungs out!
|
| (Chorus: John Tardy):
|
| Empowered! |
| (Inaudible: Lights gone!)
|
| Willpower! |
| Yeah, yeah, i am the living, the dead!
|
| (Outro & guitar solo: «Whip out the Metallica from my hip and blast some
|
| Megadeth at you!» |
| vocal scratches) |