well oiled SF, pigsty I met my one true love Feel youth crushed somewhere between concrete and boot Another victim of the lower hate You are not my God
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
Translation: Lamb Of God. O.d.h.g.a.b.f.e..
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
She's a slack one, born of greed Speaking endless words, long and empty A beggar who still wants to choose A dethroned queen still demands her due If
on your feet Then to live forever Begging on your knees Begging on your Begging on your Begging on your knees Can we still be saved? Hell no Does your god
Sodomite warms the ass of cooked lamb.
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 and suck you dry Don't laugh at my jokes, the punchline
At a loss for something different to say I've said everything, we've said it all before An extra nail for your coffin I'm going to ride that horse we
Witness shame's parade, the pain of blame repaid It's fucking hopeless accusations and denial Hopeless, demon of another day Colorless, stoned, solid
And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green And was the holy lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen And did the countenance
Christ is Lord He's exalted, God's exalted He's exalted, God's exalted He's exalted, God's exalted He's exalted, God's exalted He's exalted, God's
feet So Lamb of God may I offer I have no gold to lay at Your feet So Lamb of God, please let me offer me Lamb of God I offer me
healed the lame. Well I am Jesus's brother Craig is my name. Jesus is the Prince of Peace. Jesus is the Lamb. Jesus is the Son of God But Craig don
with hate for god The priests of chaos chant From the book of the worm They burn the symbols of christ We spit on the virgin lamb And mock the words
O come ye young of Hamlyn--you who know my tune so well, Where it beckons you must follow--be it Heaven (be it Hell). Forget your mothers grieving as
and that Thou bidst me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, O Lamb of God, O Lamb of God, I come, I come. O Lamb of God, I come.
