Rozz Williams - Who's In Charge Here (Beneath The Triumph Of Shadows) lyrics

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Rozz Williams - Who's In Charge Here (Beneath The Triumph Of Shadows) lyrics

Old a** monkeys swivel in the discuss/fiscuss lovers yahtzee style Circle of viral disease spent in whirlpools of light hatred, beginnings of the new world… "Jimmy trick," the space captain moaned from beneath the cosmic red rays of radioactive dead curl "You make my heart sing" A h*mos**ual antibiotic for no s** in venereal hallway sleaze Cross its path if you must return head-burn, separate the vile scent from a misspent youth uncouth elders sent these children to their demise unrecognizable limbs sway in palm shadow Rigorous waves that I ride on, endless (so it seems), corrupt crawl, withdrawal – bent on trembling knee prayers, thrust up, thrown to sky Eyes torn out and tattered rags of emotion Devotion often squandered on a heap of melting flesh, mesh teeth, howl aloud – "Forget me not, forget me not" Recognition blurs and spurs me on to further acts of degradation No boundaries, no limits, no space beyond acceptance of the ma** genocide to come Squealing for a fat tomorrow never known A quick infliction and the last convulsions of life into d**h begin and while you may think it morbid, the reality will not hide repulsion It breeds like a plague-ridden flea from carca** to carca** Door to door parasite, sign your name to the list of those dying Get a hold, grip tender with your organ… Sugar s** on a bed of holy who*edom There is no bill of sale with this love Let it all be known In false dedication, I defile all before me Medicate the shell of a body you thought was alive Hobby-horse-goat… gloating/bloated Candy cotton's spun its web of sickening, sticky rush around you – nothing as it seems Apocalyptic memory soon come true Riding the pale horse which taunts you, haunts you with its wholesome/precome illusion s** you f**, and s** until I cum What might it entail to flaunt you as the hustler you've become? Hole in the head, dreading the next image A haystack needle mile, descending mend-tack pile 'o skin and we cannot escape the inescapable How could they?