Тексты песен «Pig Destroyer»

Once colorful dreams now swing like dead paratroops from the naked trees. Your sky lips and snow skin are sugar for the carrion perched high atop the naked trees. A flower on the bed of brittle leaves. A mass grave of...

been lonesome two years since she disappeared I'm at the park where she was last seen a vast green clearing wrapped up in maple trees spilling the morning rain from their leaves I used to walk here with a girl seventeen...

all star crossed and stary eyed innocence pulled away by maturity's tide, lonliness as the void into which all this warped obsession is cast, shyness as the dam denying the river it's ultimate purpose, deafened by all...

i see the pale girl in a red dress on the stairs of a sinking mansion her siblings take me to her sometimes they say she's my ghost sent back to rape this body and that i'm a painter of dead girls sleeping with the same...

with better eyes i could have seen the disgust on your face when i spoke your name and with better ears i could have heard the disgust in your voice when you spoke mine and with better hands i could have felt your skin...

Everyone quickly hushed up and took a step back as Jenifer rose and stood over the girl, examining her handiwork. Her heart layed motionless beneath her, seemingly dead. Her eyesockets dry and empty. Her heels and...

Young unicorns snatched from the impossible skies precious horns, ordinary chainsaws. I am left with horses revolting in the normalcy shipwrecked by a face all sweet and empty like a hollow candy or an ice cream smile...

An entire year of you in a single speck of blood. The gun smiles your smile and the razor whispers your name. They are just frigid hands from the other side of the world leading me into...

I dream sometimes of a brother in red. The first unborn. Perhaps the son of god aborted and tossed and a garbage bag. Life is black comedy. Slapstick and vulgarity. Unworthy of the name. I still remember where mine went...

Maybe she'll snap her wrists doing cartwheels or her ankle dancing drunken at some rave maybe she'll go through a windshield and have twinkling bits of glass stuck in her face she's so pretty in her casts damaged so...

i dream of leaving this body through a leak in my skin escaping this temple holding a young god in visions of purity undone visions of purity undone and yet i gave in to divinity or perhaps just sleight of hand but on...

a pair of cracked snowflakes bleed behind a veil of crimson butterflies her face is a heaven littered with dead angels i bathed in their blood slept upon their severed wings imagining a place called innocence i see...

The bullet hole looks so right in your head like it'd been missing all along the blood streaked across your face like some twisted lover's deformed lipstick trace staring at your reflection wondering how you're still...

foolish young visionary your proximity to the corrupt epicenter razes your walls of morality walls of protection or of concealment temtation of raw power acquiescence subsequent exposure leaves you impaled on your own...

She rolls out of bed with the blankets wrapped around her dragging like the virgin's wedding gown there's a scarlet hourglass at the base of her spine four arms offer caresses four arms brandish knives her tongue twirls...

They heckle the gunshy assassin. Led away in shame. The chameleon is my favorite animal. I learned that boys in dresses are ok on the last day of school. There was a rainbow like a halo over the...

uncertainty demands attention like a middle child and narrows focus like a bone saw it is the cocoon from which the truth emerges and once the pattern upon the wings is unveiled it transcends our childish concepts of...

the trivial little things left in your wake are beloved terminally infected limbs it is not the firing squad but the blindfold that makes us tense the loss of perfection leaves no cause to persist in searching leaving...

I sneak a sniff of her live wire hair. It is bright red with random sparks. My bionic sister teaches me inhumanity. Parting her silver thighs and making love...

This is an advertisement for the skin machine. Paid for by the people that supply the lash for these pointless acts of self-flaggellation. The vultures are made up like mockingbirds and they're circling. It is very...