Album: When the Kite String Pops
"The God machine is hungry for individualism and ripe brains.
The skull farmers do their rain dance and pray the machine falls to sleep.
She holds me close and whispers wet, "there are cannibals among us".
Mad in love with dry dead boys in the backs of abandoned cars.
Smoking the bones of children, plotting The Murder Of Love."
Strapped into the chair the needle now descends
As they lick their cracking lips their twitching never ends
Blood beneath their finger nails, swallow all my pain
Dirty needles break the skin, suck hard as I drain
Drain me (x2)
Sunken eyes, a twisted spine, a whiter shade of pale
Rockabilly man come to pound the coffin nails
Inject my stomach full of cockroach eggs
Their machine is coming carried on a million legs
Waking in the sleep of reason, winter is the forever season
Lick thy mother's bleeding lips, from this glass of hate we sip
Fuck the glass we pump the keg, kill conception at the egg
Her chin is wet with someone's hate, love, disfigure, amputate
Amputate (x2)
Can you remember how it felt to be alive?
Your god machine is cold and dead your eyes they cannot cry
Fuck your deities of dying love!
We have shot them down from the skies above
Screaming convulsing, my eyes are bleeding
Be silent now and take your beating
I wonder how long you would live with a bullet in your gut
I wonder how much shit you'd talk if your throat was cut
I wonder what you'd sound like begging me to let you breathe
I wonder how much pain it would take to make you all believe
Believe, believe, believe, believe in me, yeah
I'm your god machine
Fuck your god!