- Lamb Of God
- Relase date:
- April 13, 1999
- Epic Records
- Legion Records
Burn The Priest tracks
Archaic methods transfer through well in the face of mass denial. Bitterness
fuels the mode for the escape of mediocrity. Stepping the grate, shattered
nerves ground down to a glass edge carrying me away. Bloodletting a favorite
game of solitaire. A suicide mission destined to fail, a moving ladder to
climb taking me away. I wouldn't have it any other way.
With just a flick of the opal banded finger I will throw you into a
concentric mental decline. I control your elation, I control your
depression. I take as I wish memory, clothed in a raiment noir. (I take you
under my black wing.) I take you under my dark wing and nurture you in hate
to dwell forever in a Maison Blanche. Purity through corruption, who am I to
blame when your basest instincts are realized?
3. RESURRECTION #9
Lay waste torn asunder weak and lost in the past. Obfuscates the self mind,
ripped it away. Cobwebs and motes in the eye of the sun god. I think not,
serpent get thee behind me. Eradicated your somnambulant enigma. This field
has lain fallow, won't erode, won't soak up the sediment from your poisoned
mind. No, I won't soak up your misery, won't soak up your weakness, won't
soak up your banality. Taste vanadium, wide awake realizing what you've
done. Taste the frost, you chose your own death you know that you choose
well. I hate myself but not as much as I hate you. Tear yourself down.
Ripped out all the options, busted broke still drunk on hubris and the night
before. Mechanically destroying the self, pushing. Annihilate, live in the
vernacular. Deconstruct through alcohol, pacify with the liquid placebo.
Flatline of the cranium, my only wish to destroy. You just met the last
motherfucker who truly does not give a fuck:Goatfish.
Smothered under your affection, solitude an acquisition, symbiosis turned
parasitic. Now I'm starting to regret this, dying to be alone. Bleed me as
I'm dying to be alone. A weight on my back a noose around my neck a clot in
my veins a worm in my gut all this and more are you. Please leave me alone.
I can't breathe air from your mouth I can't move in your embrace I need a
void in my life but you've taken all the nothing.
6. LIES OF AUTUMN
As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper, thoughts turn acrid and curl
like cigarette smoke rising from a butt ground out on my arm. Step into this
decay and experience dissolution. Crucified on a plank of cruelty, crucified
on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away. Immobile for the cold
duration. Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away.
7. CHRONIC AUDITORY HALLUCINATION
Picking crumbs from the beards of others, futile organisms with no spine.
Human lice with no spine slips into a neural wreck of humanity's rot. Trust
ripping away, dying. Your breed is weak, the taste of strength bitter to
your palate of doubt. A remnant of what was, once left, a relic you pissed
it away. Your breed is weak, a thing so weak. Mutual downslide into
mediocrity, you knew better but you pissed it all away. Weak.
8. SUFFERING BASTARD
Shorn of apocryphal pride, the locks falls predicting strife. Cranium
exposed, denial of aesthetic. Push it a little farther. All of this burnt to
ashes, all of this torn to rags. I don't know what the fuck have I become?
Synapses snapping mortality decimated. Breakdown whiskey shifts hate into
overdrive. Realizing it's murder of the self so clean. Hand reaches out
desecrates impunity. Ripping away foundation's identity replacing with
shame. Transgression mythologized, indiscretions immortalized. Anger
inflamed with dry rot, pushing towards severance. What a bloody mess.
Visiting dark sites unknown, grief lands like a ton of bricks. All of this
burnt to ashes, all of this torn to rags:
Turn on all the lights and punch them out. All four burners going, pile it on
fire. Metal sparks in the nuclear box. Fist through a window pane and our
broken coffee cups litter the kitchen floor. Smoke rolling across the
ceiling suck down the bride's champagne and swallow a few more sleepy ones.
Pass the bottle to none and swing from the gate. Speak in the name of
suffering as loud as it gets. Knuckled holes in everything spittle and love
fling into a crying eye that runs away. A dead dog in the street nothing
brings a slain king back. You'll never know the bittersweet smell of leaving
this world of your own volition. So jacked up.
Whine, whine, whine. How can you afford to throw me those looks when you
haven't pulled the bloody wool from over your eyes yet? How can you say
those things to me when you haven't pulled the boot of the past out of your
mouth? Tepid morals personality set for easy calibration knowledge of
importance paramount. Marooned a suicidal caste deal with isolation grease
the wheels chameleon. Sliding through social strata and yet you still whine.
Your conviction is merely iconographic. I'm so sick of hearing you whine
11. PREACHING TO THE CONVERTED
The Public wants what the public gets. Lazarus himself wouldn't rise into
this world. Decry relativity damned petulant for seeing through a Trojan
horse full of zyklon while Judas' coffers overflow. What? New world
(dis)order is nothing new. Choking on poison air pouring whiskey into
crescent moon lacerations. Time to bite the hand that beats. Teach our
children well, teach them to kill. Global jihad for a thousand years.
Sanctified our blood spills, sutured with commodities. Iron fist in silken
glove ripping away autonomy, replacing with a placebo. Realize that our
wounds will never heal while Judas' coffers overflow.
12. DEPARTURE HYMN
We are in this world not of it. Spreading like vermin the last of the breed.
Screaming into an urban wind broken glass asphalt undertow trash blows down
deserted streets. This organism will survive and breed.
Flickering lies glazed cornea creating cerebral corpses. A senseless data
overload a prime-time hypnosis bow to idiot box. Self-induced anueretic sty
waves flatline encapsulated time tape eraser mind waste away your life.
How light could be our darkest hour? None will be left when they come to
collect their blood debts. All accounts will run dry, a binary vessel full
of nothing but dust. A vicious lust for control has turned us into faceless
pawns for faceless kings, shedding rivers of blood turned the color of lucre
greed. Fiscal commandments impel and we will obey blindly. The fury of the
sun has passed into the hands of men whose hands were already too full of
abused strength and anger, of abused strength and power. Bio-economics
killing again and again.