|
Waiting for dinner conversations |
|
To turn into a slaughtering affair |
|
So we begin, waiting for the massacre |
|
To hit you in the head, so we begin |
|
Our tongue breaking degradation set to please |
|
But if you think we'd degrade ourselves |
|
Then you've clearly been had |
|
When "death and destruction" |
|
Is the only measure of our state of content |
|
Our tongue breaking degradation set to please |
|
Holding on to something real by an arms length |
|
It ain't over 'til the writing's on the wall |
|
These will be the final words, may you choke on them |