Carcass lyrics
Carcass lyrics
"Symposium Of Sickness lyrics"
Jack O'diamonds lyrics
Jack O'Diamonds, on the move Jack O'Diamonds, one-eyed knave On the move, hits the street Bumps his head, on the ground Well, he's a scout, you're born to lose Shouldn't stay Jack O'Diamonds is a hard card to play Jack O'Diamonds, yeah Jack O'Diamonds This one-eyed prince, wear
Jack O'Diamonds, on the move Jack O'Diamonds, one-eyed knave On the move, hits the street Bumps his head, on the ground Well, he's a scout, you're born to lose Shouldn't stay Jack O'Diamonds is a hard card to play Jack O'Diamonds, yeah Jack O'Diamonds This one-eyed prince, wear
(Music: Owen) (Lyrics: Walker) An encloaking, dark epoch In which all life is now appraised Another valueless commodity On which the rapacious may feebly graze Indebted homage to their mammon Whilst the mort is the music of the meek Transcendence from a beautifully brutal reality Is what I seek... Noxious, sully dolour Is not the sentiment upon which we feed But precocious consciousness Draws out a morbid nous to bleed Chiselling out seething words Which cut deep down to the bone Always legible So be it on our own headstone... (Lead trem: Necrononism by M. Amott) Rising to our own nCandle Of Fire lyricsadir Reality we try to extirpate Trying to raise a twisted smile Similar to that silver plate On a coffin which is joined Hammering in each final nail Last kill and testament Left now intestate... Noxious, sully dolour Is not the thesis which is bled A precarious train of thought In which mental cattle-trucks are led Carving out skilful words Which shear brittle bones Always spelt out well We just can't leave the dead alone... Monographic text A terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexed Enunciated epigrams Eschatological, rotten requiems Always our own worst cynics Exorcisers of scorching scorn Digging our own
Not in magnificient temples Shining of gods Beat up the ghost Carrier of wealth Not in lightnes arch The beautiful altars Not in smoke of soul Candle of fire. No that who ones there in poor cribs For his son make the cosiness That and for ghost want the intermost Hartly cribsLace lyricsgraves But never stand over and mourn The roulade now pandemonium Displaced in the muggy sods Espoused with the macabre The dead we filch and rob... ...Munificant bale... ...From the deviants staid... Execrations - taunting spiritual release Exoneration - upon the perishable we feast Excogitation - picking at the bones of convention Exculpitation - foul verbal conflagration... Epigraphic text, a literary vex The macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshed (Lead: Eschatological excavation by W.G. Steer) Euthenic text An unpleasant journey, to a world perplexed Corporeal epigraphs Eschatological unpleasantness Alway
(Guillory, LaBrie)Sit with me in the cornerWhere the lights are lowMaybe you can make it rightMaybe you can make it rightWith all the lights still coveredThere's something too familiarA little much to hang ontoA little much to hang ontoWhat I believed in no lonReal Life In The Big City lyricss forever cryptic Exercisers of twisted grief Helping you to dig up the interred Whilst fresh still are the wreaths The harmony now pandemonium Heard out in the muddy dirt Espoused with the bizarre We play on our own turf... ...Epithetic text... ...A macabre reality perplexed... Execrations - literary tales of atrocities fairy Exoneration - harsh, cold bloody marys Excogitation - a narcissistic eutechnique Exculpitation - perverse artworks, so unique... Monographic text, a literary vex The macabre perplexed, with reality meshed... (Lead: Corpsereality by M. Amott) (Lead: Cold logistic language by W.G. Steer)
the sun comes up on santa rosa the garbage men are cleaning up the street there's a junkie sleeping in the shadows and all around me i can feel the weight up in the sky i see orion and he's telling me a lie the windows laugh at me cuz its so easy to see through me connect the dots and do your time every thou