Bit my lip
|
And it's the same thing.
|
Now I'm reduced to a pulp.
|
Your undisturbed and decorated
|
Decorations lie.
|
|
You're hounded by pulse
|
Stabbed by spit
|
And your brain fits
|
Despite your ears.
|
|
Another one has run in.
|
Rotten and gossiped,
|
You're all used up
|
With a burst up shell.
|
|
Why're you gonna try it
|
If you know you don't like it
|
How're you gonna give it up
|
If you ain't got it.
|
|
Why're you gonna use it
|
If you think that it's broke.
|
What are you gonna swell to show
|
The things that you're breaking down, down, down.
|
|
Down cold thresh flesh paste
|
Deliver hate paste.
|
Voices sick and swelling
|
You say you don't like it.
|
You say you don't like it.
|
But you just don't get it
|
You just don't get it.
|
|
You're hounded by pulse,
|
Stabbed by spit
|
And your brain shits
|
To clog your ears.
|
|
A casual mark
|
Made by a bird.
|
Look what you lost
|
With your fair hands.
|
|
Why're you gonna try it
|
If you know you don't like it.
|
How're you gonna give it up
|
If you ain't got it.
|
|
Why're you gonna use it
|
If you think that it's broke
|
Why're you gonna swell the show
|
The things that you're breaking down, down, down
|
|
-----------------
|
Hate Paste
|
Archers of Loaf |