prophecy is going to rock the heretics; was it memory black-out;
or was it hopeful visions of your head relieving your shoulders of burden.
100 tons of hellfire; your conscience conjurs up prophecy.
that leni reifenstahl smile fills your vulgar mouth with reason.
our livlihood relies on your Riefenstahlic confidence;
your Riefenstahlic ignorance of guile.
for wrath it kills you
for spite it kills you
I hate the taste of your blood
(black as pitch)
but I'd hate it even more to see my skull mounted next to some pompous grin,
or that mona lisa smile
just one thought and your filled with vulgar abilities,
it comes naturally but I'd like to steal the best parts for me
when the best parts come we should be back to back
It's hard to fear the prophecies of a liar
(we've seen your vulgar head before, burning on a stake in the Astral fire)
but that doesn't stop your guile (that doesn't stop a thing)
we should be back to back because it can't happen again
(we've seen your black heart for the last time)