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this man may have a shitload to prove he's got to settle a score against the groove infinite orgasm like endless joy and pain thunder to my ears like a holy rain
an aural wall of waking awash in purple paint and a digging of the flowers in your yard electric rays of healing intensify the feelingof hatred towards the things you say I aint
fear a man-child has soul and semen pathetic thought he thinks forever heard you caused a landslide walking home saw you slide the man-child under your coat
product of your generation product of your masturbation product of a master plan product of a holy man product of infanticide product of decaying minds product of mass corruption the product and its production
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