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Spitfire




Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  S  →  Spitfire  →  Дискография  →  Cult Fiction

Альбом Spitfire


Cult Fiction (29.04.2008)
29.04.2008
1.
2.
3.
Apnea 1
4.
5.
6.
Dawn Patrol
7.
8.
9.
Brain Debris
10.
11.
12.
13.
Apnea 2
14.
. . .



Cough up your money.
Bi-curious husbands with seven-year itches.
A nip and a tuck and you'll have me in stitches.
I can't feel a thing, means the anesthesia is working.
I'm your ultrasound dead giveaway. Caught in arrhythmia drift.
A miscarried mothers milk, a schizophrenic's facelift.
My eye candy rots, I can't feel a thing.
The lunatic is just wild life roaming, on the loose and rabid-foaming.
No gag reflex means the novocain is working.
Give me a shot baby our reproductive glands won't feel a thing.
Our bastard children means the birth control is working




. . .



It's funny how chemo wears you down. Or how we put the lame dog down.
put the lame dog down.
it's funny when it's taken out to the street and shot.
it's funny how heaven's gate makes a man out of you




. . .

Apnea 1

[Нет текста]

. . .



Cold metal, hard lead.
Kneeling to the cock of a rifle you're fed.
My big bluff baby, my middle finger-cross.
My nixed. My 86'ed.
My late great loss.
I pulled the plug on our suicide machine.
I shot the moon as the suicide king.
My big bluff baby, my middle-finger cross.
You were just a hack with a butcher's touch.
My jarhead vessel that though too much.
Just a two-bit yes man.
Just a free ride and a big scam.
I've been crossed out




. . .



26 years in an aborting world. Mother Earth in labor. Cesarean life rips limb after limb after limb.
No one knows the fucking woes of the arthropod.
So, flinch like a stillborn and die like a newborn.
You are the flushed fetal remnants of this aborting world.
You've been raised up wrong Lazarus in this this aborting world.
Mother's metal hanger and it's cutting rapist wit, poked fun at a bastard.
Now you must cut the cord of mother, cut that fucker and eat the placenta.
With ideals as utpoian as Freud in uteri.
A strangers smack on the ass is your welcome to this world.
26 years the mother bird puked in your mouth.
You've been raised up wrong.
You're 26 years aborted




. . .

Dawn Patrol

[Нет текста]

. . .



Spread the scent, mark the territory.
(You're an animal)
Kill/Feed
Roam
Hunt/Gather
Eat/Sleep
Mate/Defend
Make your mark, piss your life away
(You're an animal)




. . .



We greased our pockets with oil.
Then lined those pockets with black crosses of ash.
No ad space left on our foreheads.
Only barcodes and ink rash.
Burn, baby, burn.
Get out the kinks.
Burn, baby, burn.
Bring out the gimp.
Teflon president left unscathed.
War machine plows.
Set your waco ablaze




. . .

Brain Debris

[Нет текста]

. . .



What do you have to be angry about?
I rack your brain stem for head trauma.
Spina bifida baby's first prosthetic steps.
Live! via (we are made for TV drama)
Well, get that money shot, milk it like an L.A. slut.
Because baby can't catch a break
When the botox of his hollywood ending is smut.
Post-partum with the birth defected.
Nature's whore is just naturally selected.
Surrogate mommy is feeling used.
Lost ourselves when blood transfused.
So, cop a feel and feel a lump.
Cancer is the side effect of daddy's semen sunk.
I thought it was freak.
I thought it was glue.
I thought it was just malignant scar tissue.
But it was you




. . .



You're only free when you're rabid.
You're only rabid when you're free.
Neither male gods nor phallic cities will ever humanize the survival instinct of a jailbait prisoner.
No mecca of pop-culture will ever tarnish the contagious luster of a meth-head in a mining town.
Come on, self-destruct, it's the perfect high.
It's the wonder drug of the wasted lives.
Welcome to the super-human afterlife.
Welcome




. . .



The dull thud of packing meat.
It's my bare fist beating meat.
I'm a meat eater and meat is me.
I'm a meat eater bearing recoiled red teeth.
With veneer forget-me-knots.
I'll always be a part of you.
With born again birth rite.
Our baptismal names we lose.
A soul's exit from a food source is quick, painless, and without force.
I'll pick up the scent; i'll ride the rail.
And it's easy hunting along blood trail.
It skinned my life.
It saved my hide.
It drained my fluids.
And carved out my insides




. . .

Apnea 2

[Нет текста]

. . .



We freebased the world like a challenger explosion.
And lit up the sky so the world could see.
That the sleeping giant sky swats it's fly.
That the farmer beats his seeds back down to Earth.
Life passes with a bang!!!
It blows your mind or you get the hang.
It's the business end of a shotgun.
Eat the lead
Be masculine.
Like a gag ball in the mouth of a squealing pig.
Skin is fat
muscle food.
Loose meat is dead meat.
A show in the arm
a shot in the dark.
Take it like a man.
Mainline to heart.
It's over.
Just take it slow.
Go with the flow in vitro




. . .


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