Saturday, February 05, 2005

Suffrage

Whirlwind suffrage
of endless thoughts
scratching life's buttcrack
to seek answer to accumulating boogers....
Who?Where?What?Why?
Pick the one that is most commonly shaded
in life's neverending answer sheet......

Rangers led the way at 2/05/2005 08:23:00 PM Thursday, February 03, 2005

Screaming from the Sky by Slayer...
I stalk close in from above
Silent wings will test your faith
Death will never hear me pass
Launch attack you're too late
I hear flak inside my head
Deafening thunder cities burn
Carpet-bombing laid to waste
Throwned inside a death mask
Holy cross embedded in your tomb
Casualties are buried through your mind
Certain death is screaming from the sky
I live to destroy below
Hunted victims are unseen
Flying wrath a fortress hell
War machine to kill all
I leave carnage in my wake
Choking bleeding for your life
Faceless prey has been erased
Silence reigns you're dead now
Holy cross embedded in your tomb
Casualties are buried through your mind
Certain death is screaming from the sky

Rangers led the way at 2/03/2005 10:42:00 AM

Angel Of Death by Slayer....

Pumped with fluid, inside your brain
Pressure in your skull begins pushing through your eyes
Burning flesh, drips away
Test of heat burns your skin, your mind starts to boil
Frigid cold, cracks your limbs
How long can you last
In this frozen water burial?
Sewn together, joining heads
Just a matter of time
’til you rip yourselves apart
Millions laid out in their
Crowded tombs
Sickening ways to achieve
The holocaust
Seas of blood, bury life
Smell your death as it burns
Deep inside of you
Abacinate, eyes that bleed
Praying for the end of
Your wide awake nightmare



ps....theyre excerpts....actual songs are fooking long...

Rangers led the way at 2/03/2005 10:40:00 AM

Vermillion by slipknot
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self ablige
She is something in me, the darkness finds

Rangers led the way at 2/03/2005 10:37:00 AM
Self-Pity
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself
                                                                                   -D.H. Lawrence







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