For control of energy Pod one now complete Their waiting for their defeats Only matter of time Of what's to come Awaiting for us in the near future Only
Nigga die, bye, 'til I rise to the occasion. Determined that I make it, no matte what I'm facin'! [Chorus] [Flesh-n-Bone] We all poor with God giving purpose and that's
spells and vexed text Deliverance of the next dragon's breath and burnt flesh [Mad Child] Calm surface, serpant, sleeps Leviathon Angels assistants under Satan's
Beneath the sun, all deeds done, meaningless are they Labor in vain, tormenting pain, incessant toil Chasing the wind, grasping (for) what's been, wearisome
s tongue Betrayed and deceived Words, compromising acts of emptiness Deeds of damnation called upon yourself In the true domain no words, just thoughts Fantasy, what
his ultimate ambition of the sundering of the mystic shackles? XERXES: Yes, the only chance... the last hope for victory... ALTARUS: ??? XERXES: What was that deed? What
ol bitches There's alot of pretty girls all around the world And there's alot of pretty girls I would like to fuck And everywhere I look there's another
waste your thoughts Verbal conflict is a waste of word Physical conflict is a waste of flesh People will always be who they want And that's what really
child inside dried her out. The king's beloved is no more.) The chosen one felt the time had come to show the world what had grown within. This day of
cursed by the presence... What is my crime... What is my deed... Is this life my redemption Shall I repent or proceed I hate my flesh It's dimension
or am I cursed by thy presence What is my crime... What is my deed... Is this life my redemption
What is my crime, what is my deed? Is this life my redemption? Shall I repent or proceed? I hate my flesh. Its dimension poisoned my soul with doubt
don't feel so good Something's not right Something's coming over me What the fuck is this? Killer, intruder, homicidal man If you see me coming, run
you waste your thoughts Verbal conflict is a waste of word Physical conflict is a waste of flesh People will always be who they want And that's what really
. We fracture to the calls of six fingers, eyes and feet. Now I see what we've come to spectate today: To pit the flesh on our back against nerves will
hands of the dark angel adjust Snatching your breath, till it dims up your chest How much pain, can I manifest When I come to wreck, ripping through your flesh
