Make A Change... Kill Yourself - Chapter One
Информация:
Группа: Make A Change... Kill Yourself
Альбом: Make A Change... Kill Yourself
Год: 2005
Страна: Дания
Другие тексты
Is life just another test to prove me wrong? Is this never-ending struggle just another lie?
Are these shitty feelings just another fairytale of happiness? Are these scars real or just another open wound?
Are these people real or just ghosts in the wind? Is this a fork or a knife? The blood seems real.
This knife seems too kindly. Touch my skin. This is dying not living. This is the border between life and death.
Only death is real.
Strangle me. Stab me to death. Poison my scars. Death is so profane. Death is what I hunger to experience.
A lifeless body with a soul rotten of wasted years in this they call life.
So I kneel before you, a never-ending wish as I beg you to end my life.
Fool? Why are you so weak? Why can you not do what I dare not?
Cut my wrists. Poison my scars. What keeps you from ending my life?
Do not pity me as this is what I long for. I give up. Caressed by this shitty life.
I must find strength within this grim body of mine.
Searching in this open wound called a soul I find enough strength to cut my wrists.
But it isn't enough. Nothing shall ease this long awaited pain.
Some pure alcohol should definitely make the blood run quicker and make the pain bigger.
A final attempt to make my death honorable; I drag myself outside to die in public hopefully giving these humans trauma.
What a lifeless body... |
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Join me brother of blood. Help me create a war.
We are just puppets dancing the way they want us to.
And I have grown weary of it. I want to spill their blood.
Nothing shall remain holy.
Body parts and severed heads shall fill the landscape.
Above the corpses we shall stand proud and laugh at their disgrace.
Our veins we shall slit, spilling our blood on the butchered bodies.
Laughing till death.
We were masters of life and death in that specific moment.
And we chose death.
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Woke up to another day in this hellhole. My mind fucks up my soul.
Sitting in this rubber cell of mine with nothing sharp whatsoever.
But the mind is as good as any knife that cuts to the bone.
I am a divine interception.
Cut as deep as my everlasting pain. Blood flowing.
This crappy human medicine wont cure me. I am immune to it.
My great salvation lies within this suicidal mind of mine.
Join me in this wicked state of suicide.
Do you feel like cutting your wrist?
Do you have the feeling that you want to butcher somebody?
Do you want to see blood and deep scar wounds.
Do you want to die or have a near death experience.
Then try my cure.
Take a bottle of Absinthe and a handful of razorblades.
Empty the bottle and I promise you will wake up with either
Stab wounds or another persons blood all over you
You suck! Kill yourself!!! |
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Burnt is the landscape. I stand proud and behold this.
Their churches have been burnt, sick and perverted desecrations have been done.
Their regime has ended. It is time for the northern heritage to return.
It will create a dark and violent age where no Christian life shall be spared.
I find myself in a puddle of blood, knowing it was an illusion.
As I drop lifeless to the floor.
Follow my footprints of blood: my steps of blood.
Leave everything behind you and step into my reality.
Where no happiness is found. Feel the wind torment your skin.
Feel the sun burn your skin and turn to stone.
Feel my razorblades tongue and cut yourself deep and desirably.
Let the blood run in an overflowing stream and submit to my suicide and yours.
Nothing but death in this life is certain.
You may be in some state of happiness but none of this will stay real.
You are trapped in a spider's web.
You might as well just kill yourself. |
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Текст:
Join me brother of blood. Help me create a war.
We are just puppets dancing the way they want us to.
And I have grown weary of it. I want to spill their blood.
Nothing shall remain holy.
Body parts and severed heads shall fill the landscape.
Above the corpses we shall stand proud and laugh at their disgrace.
Our veins we shall slit, spilling our blood on the butchered bodies.
Laughing till death.
We were masters of life and death in that specific moment.
And we chose death.
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