It’s a cold day in Hell and the hacked skin is screaming

Cut-price souls bleeding out

Selling their Meaning

Dead civilization

Beyond restoration

And a nice fresh demographic for each novel degradation

The cots are full of maggots in each nursery mind

No jobs for life yet you join the cattle grind

Skipping through fires of hate and desire

Throbbing zombie zygotes on the razor wire



Thin skins already cracking

Ligaments contracting

Writhing in this wound wake with both hands bound

Dionysian sybarites

Eyes wide shut in ritual spite

Cruising through a sine wave of freak show sound



Ugly-hued heads splice

Dead lips dirge lice

Masturbating mania across the wires

Blinkered perverts, paid drones

Puking up their sick bones

Superficial wishes light the funeral pyres



Blood sacrifice and infant rape

An Inquisition ink State

Liquid sex psychosis if you have the guile

Fashion conscious group thought

Virtue signaled souls bought

Feed those miles of maggots with each cold, controlled smile



I see rabid dogs and dust mites dripping universal slug slime

An acid rainbow in a sky that’s never had the time to shine

Crassly-wrought creeds serving dioxin needs

Half-baked quick-fix faith relations bleeding blunt force blasphemy

With muscles stitched to muzzles

Time to pack away this puzzle

There are crows on the horizon and that sky burns black

Corrupted cacogenics and a criminal aesthetic

Pay-per-view homicides

All media backed



Manufactured misandry

The feeble end of history

60 years of backwards ideology



Waves of assembly-line gun-crime

Feeding fear to brainwashed dregs

Rifle-toting right-wing death squads?!

Tell it to the limbless baby dripping down your leg



As the cellophane godless fuck the Lord of The Flies

Both looking backwards with the same ash in their eyes

And social sedation dulls this fear of waste creation

Whilst they aim us all at aimless annihilation



Still you bite the hand that feeds

Planting disillusioned seeds

A new generation of cultic dismay

Sucking off that flesh for your own feeble needs

Would you ever consider there’s another way?



Put your fingers to the ground

And feel the howl as worlds come down



Marketed amnesia

Makes it even easier

To enjoy a twilight lit by railguns, DEWs, drones, and mines

Turned on by this arms race

Tuned to charm and weak faith

You let the propagandists dictate your every line



Christ disfigured

They needed something bigger

Something they could trigger, with the time to kill

Broken borders

Victims only following orders

To drag us back with gratitude into their bloody swill



Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

A dialectic built on scorn



A dead

A dead

A dead age is born