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Состав группы:
Состав группы:
Randy Blythe – вокал
Mark "Duane" Morton – гитары
Will Adler – гитары
John Campbell – бас
Chris Adler – ударные
01 - Black Label
The human condition is inherit claustrophobia.
Compression of my space made complete.
I would rip out my own entrails by hand just to be alone.
Inanity rolls total through this sphere.
Ostracized for clarity of vision.
A dream unrealized of solitudethat i should decend into autonomy
& know the pain of fellowship no more. I feel nothing but a lack of
space.
Paradox of socialization results in duress.
Rife with hostility, what has caused me so much hate?
Humanity. Exterminate with extreme predjudice.
02 - A Warning
I'm a monster so don't walk my way.
Don't trust my smile my teeth are like knives.
I'll drag you down & suck you dry.
Don't laugh at my jokes- the punchline is murder.
Don't enjoy my touch, every caress hides a chokehold.
I'm only happy when I've ruined everything I see.
Believe everything you've ever heard about me- suck it up.
If you see me coming don't stop, just turn & walk the other way.
I will not lie about what I have done, I will not lie about what I will
do to you, the sweat of
my exertion is pure poison, I'm hell...
03 - In The Absence Of The Sacred
Violence a natural reaction in a society whose advances are limited to
its new technology;
different only in the current mode of destructive intent.
Date has replaced real life in this world, no hope for the stop of "progress."
Inevitable bio-link implant will replace the feel of human touch.
All memory surrogates downloaded bought & sold, no true sense
of self. Impending sensory death looming near.
A number, this is what you've become. Life digitized itemized
commodified.
Ha, ha, ha, this is what you work for...
04 - Letter To The Unborn
(инструментал)
05 - The Black Dahlia
I am the ones & the zerosthat control commerce & file you silently far
away.
I am the children starving in the gutter bellies full of unabated
poverty.
I am nihilism no future base instinct realized environmental collapse.
I am life.
I am the corpse of decency crucified on a post of greed and moral decay.
I am man.
Submit & surrender unto Ceasar what is his rightful due.
Complete oppression no catharsis in emphatic contempt for all of life.
I am man.
06 - Terror & Hubris In The House Of Frank Pollard
All the fucked up things trap & punish me I cannot explain my problem.
Kill my hopeless life I cannot be hypnotized. You owe me.
Push aside the veil to welcome in the visitors.
Eyes like halogen illuminate the soma peering out of spherical night
mask.
Paleolithic subconcious icons lumber through dreamscape archetype of
archangel.
Topside its far worse- infants painted gauze peer through murky jars;
soon I'm wearing the skin of the morning star.
Green locks my name fills an empty banner. Frank, what have you gotten
me into now?
I am not afraid to speak my heart & mind it cannot be saved sell me over.
Fuck your hopeless
world, I am blacker than the sun. Tragedy. Have you seen the speedy, yes?
Bleeds through the sleep onto the page. I'm sailin'...
07 - The Subtle Arts Of Murder & Persuasion
The dark crow man sits and stares into the oblivion into cold into
nothingness;
it's snowing in his mind.
He's created himself in his own image.
Lust held for him means naught, a knock on the door
brings no smile to his cruel lips;
the welcome in a woman's eyes holds nothing for him.
Alone on his haunches the hair raises on the back of his neck. His dead
eyes pierce the night.
As his gaze falls down on the city it fills him the method ascertained,
conviction.
He knows what to do and moves to commit the deed.
08 - Pariah
The sore on the edge of your mouth it mirror the ones on your arm of
black tar you've known the
ripping.
And I've seen you pissing your condition into the dirt.
I know you don't want to live in the dirt you want to know nothing but
dirt you know you can't beat
weakness.
Kill the flux. Stretched to breaking an obscene canvas on a stretcher of
parasitism.
You piece of shit I won'y say your name but I will say this- FUCK OFF
AND DIE (sooner the better).
You've shot out your eyes but I'm seeing that you cannot feel anything
of worth.
Know that you've pissed life away, lost in your narcotic dreams.
Heart pumping futile shit through your veins.
Why does it bother? I want to punch in your sunken face and see your
dusty blood smear through
the air in a polluted crimson arc,
splattering in a useless pattern on the concrete. Moribund.
09 - Confessional
Intrinsic rot. Traces of future. Your past will rise haunting you again.
Tounging the glue stamp seal of your fold.
Cased in forests of black steel rod.
Vines of nerve float downstream. Sections of horror.
This is something you must never do again.
Falling spiral down. You know not what you are looking for but it will
find you anyway.
I've confessed this disease to you. Handed you a key to control.
Fuel for your malicious intent.
Punish me for my failure. Dissect my faith. Twisting my trust.
Never, no more, I'm alone.
10 - O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E.
Hate. Falling three feet to the ground.
Face down on the cold floor of a well-oiled SF pigsty I met my one true
love.
Feel youth crushed somewhere between concrete & boot, another victim of
the lower hate.
You are not my god. You think this is funny don't you pig?
How the helpless freak squirms beneath our state sanctioned soles, but
what is he laughing at?
There was nothing padded about a wagon full of mace.
Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back ribs cracking beneath a rain
of sticks & heels
falling down like the rain outside.
Oh yeah bitch, I'm gonna remember your face your name your number;
and when I crawl out of this hole I'm going to make you all mine.
Auschwitz Kent State Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.
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