Illusion, Division Transcendence of angels eon Poetic, Romantic Cosmic at the means Etherial, Material Eternal but still so mortal Akana, Sorana Mother
ain't getting nothing for free and if you devils play broke, then I'm taking your company you can call it reparations or restitution lock and load nigga, industrial
Pictures with stagnant cancer, images of brutal man, vasecting, seething, despising, beaten red faces extreme, run the streets, find the lame, red hands
Watching the hit, I feel calm, crying and blood, try smell harm, back I go this mode of mind, you see me nice, you see me kind. My eyes strain, a blatant
Tears in my throat, fear in my eyes, we drive, we drive.
Gave mental calm, disposed for pain, distant advance, animate shame, justify worth, stolid obtainer, dominate false, artificial gain. Skin, stone, rage
Gripping the sweat in my hands, your voice makes my ears bleed, desperate self conciousness, in this room there is no air. Broken, you cover your burns
Hate, I hate, you mother fucker. Drown, bleed, I wish you would.
Why this arrogant rape? this arrogant breed.
Stimulation, walk tall, retention, arrogance, your ways, diseased. Plastic and skin adopted, a lowered compulsion abstract, stop and start bright image
There's leaking in the washroom there's a sneak in personnel Somewhere in the corridors someone was heard to sneeze 'goodness me could it be industrial
United we stand in shared perversion The love of death, the paradise of Hell This infinite limbo, like a great black engine Ultimate abomination, no one
Industrial sickness, industrial sickness Crude misgivings, ruthless burnings Industrial sickness, industrial sickness Demented prophets polluting nonstop Industrial
Feel like I'm livin' under some kind of hex Livin' in here in this industrial military complex Doesn't really help when I read Time magazine Cause
just a northern industrial town The front doors of the houses open into the street There's no room for front gardens, just a two-up two-down In a northern industrial
a northern industrial town The front doors of the houses open into the streets There's no room for front gardens, just a two-up, two-down In a northern industrial
a Picture we'd like to paint. The truth though will somday show, When there's no rain or falling snow. An industrial wasteland, a technological nowhere land. An industrial
There's a leakin' in the washroom, there's a sneakin' personnel Somewhere in the corridors someone was heard to sneeze Goodness me, could this be industrial
