Watch you hit the stage like a willing bomb,
strapped to cripple children.
It’s hard to watch you whore out your damage pride.
I spit on what you’re building.
We rally in the balls of the sweaty club,
prepare for insurrections.
And, all the dead souls that you would control
are bound for resurrections.
You’re father was a lover and he left you there;
need of their attention.
You’ll fill this blank page with the brightest shame;
the death of all invention.
You’re the new Christ of what will suffice;
the Satan to your savior.
Sing it out loud if you don’t believe
in lies and good behavior.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
There must be something in the way you burn,
it makes me lose control.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
I’m happy to report about the life assured;
livened to ashes.
Might of had a few but I gripped the wheel.
Now I’m speeding past this.
If you should approach with the blue and white,
attempt to pull me over.
I have a few words for the weak of heart
to summon and sober.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
If you’re the Sun, I’m a black hole.
There must be something in the way you burn,
it makes me lose control.
I’m the son of a black hole.
Go!
Basking in the glow of a dying star,
bowing down blind in the song you are,
take a little second just to hear me out.
Marching off a cliff like you’re free of doubt.
You’re Jesus growing fat off a warming girl.
Moses making up the Commandments too.
Lost out tight to a stolen hook.
Elvis in his pool of royal puke.
You’ll never be alive because you sold your soul.
(I don’t even want to take you home tonight.)
You’ll never be alive because you sold your soul. Soul!
You’ll never be alive because you sold your soul.
(I don’t even want to take you home tonight.)
You’ll never be alive because you sold your soul.
Soul! (Soul!) Soul! (Soul!)
You’ll bleed to feed the demon in me;
if you don’t change your evil ways and end this peacefully.
You’ll bleed to feed the demon in me.
I beg you before you’re digested, shred your lens and see.
You’ll bleed to feed the demon in me.
You won’t curry favor with that flavor, curry tastefully.
You’ll bleed to feed the demon in me.
I’ll swallow you and grind you up and you’ll cease to be.
You’ll bleed. (I can not let this go with you.) [z2].
Printer Friendly Version
