| It’s time,
|
| Go get the gun,
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| The one your family’s hiding from.
|
| Sleeping in the dresser drawer,
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| Do pull its trigger I implore,
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| Shoot your parents then yourself,
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| Push your life right off the shelf.
|
| Die for metal,
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| Leave this hell,
|
| Take this oath of blasphemation.
|
| When asked to kill you won’t or will.
|
| Cast aside the weak when lord belial your name,
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| He calls conquer or wallow in defeat.
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| Blood in the ink.
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| The unholy writ on contract for your soul,
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| Of your feeble peasant minds we have control.
|
| We yank these hidden strings,
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| The ones that make the razors go,
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| We’re cancelling your favorite show.
|
| We’ve pulled the plug,
|
| We’ve closed the curtain.
|
| Drinketh deep now this cup of poison,
|
| And drag a blade right through your veins.
|
| Slaughtering every soul around you of mortality,
|
| You’ll take the reigns,
|
| You’ve broken your bones in violent ritual.
|
| Tattooed black your flesh in our name,
|
| We ask you now to wield the razor at our command,
|
| You’ll worship pain.
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| Calligraphy in crimson ink,
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| Thick and dark each stroke.
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| I hereby swear my life to him,
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| Here is the sacred parchment,
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| Now part your skin and sign below.
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| When asked to kill you won’t or will.
|
| Cast aside the weak when lord belial your name,
|
| He calls conquer or wallow in defeat,
|
| Our blood is Satan’s blood,
|
| Blood in the ink.
|
| Drinketh deep now this cup of poison,
|
| And drag a blade right through your veins.
|
| Slaughtering every soul around you of mortality,
|
| You’ll take the reigns,
|
| You’ve broken your bones in violent ritual.
|
| Tattooed black your flesh in our name,
|
| We ask you now to wield the razor at our command,
|
| Let your life drain. |