Illusory tale
Shattered
Ending Denial
Nothingness
Get fucking used to it
Last visions of my pistol grip
Idle hands go best
Wrapped Around arms
Racing in my head
Born ready, spewing lead
Astray freight of ones left
for dead better
Almost as good as underground
Or empty bled
Wishing for life to end
The disease.
Aspirations crushed
Livestock becoming dust
Their lives of pleasure bring
Disgust screaming
Taking life like it means shit
(it) don’t
All these deficiencies
Gone with the trigger squeeze
Death dealing with ease
And moving without mercy
A man, a gun, the future
Changed by one six shooter
Necrosis of malignant tumor
Delivered at the end of a ruger
Depart
Torn apart
Hunting humans
Create ruins
This is a cry for help
Save me from this hell
Councillor
Caliber
Your only god
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