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Waiting in the woods, our perfect victims await us |
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Not knowing and relaxed, their blood will run cold with the bud seed |
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With pruning shears drawn, we stalk without emotion |
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To see the fear in their eyes, and yet to know not of their true worth |
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Chop up the hippies, boil the blood and leave no parts behind |
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Offer the flesh unto our master, on the altar the plant demands a sacrifice |
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Sacrifice, of blood and gore, to fertilize the seed inside |
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With candles lit in little time the vine begins to grow |
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Above the blood-soaked weaklings, its arms are spread apart |
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Leaves all unfolding, proud and mighty plant |
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Our avatar grows skyward, upward and out through the ceiling |
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Grabs onto the power lines, it shows its face |
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It kills for weed to smoke, bud blood-soaked, it leaves no stoners stoked |
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To make it strong, most weedy one, devouring grass, the plant demands a sacrifice |
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Without thought, heads left to rot, bud-monster red-eyed beast |
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Enjoys the gore, always craving more, minion of Satan, the demon is left to feed |
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To make it strong, most weedy one, devouring grass, the plant demands a sacrifice |
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Without thought, heads left to rot, bud-monster red-eyed beast |
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Enjoys the gore, always craving more, minion of Satan, the demon we have freed |
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Massive growth |
