He was a punk, I killed Him.

A asshole all in pink,
somedqay showed off his bling,
to the girls in the ground,
to the guys in wound.

Shattered and wailed,
everyone's brain,
there left nothing,
except for face and waste,

Boiling,
was my blood,
Coiling,
were my nerves,
Tried to show,
all what he owed,
cause of a disease,
'vanity' at ease.

I went,
i asked,
I requested,
i begged,
he did not seem to heed,
I doped some weed,
found a hammer,
smashed his face

I smashed
I smashed
I smashed
I smashed

I smashed him hard,
till nothing remained,
i laid him to death,
because i had no vain,
I ripped him apart,
like faces from scars,
still was i tearing,
him abdomen to rot.

his abdomen,
filled with incisions,
his nerves filled with all my piss,
his face,
was like a smashed rotten egg,
He deserved to be slaughtered,
with a hatred hammer,
struck with a disease,
which had no cure at ease,

HE WAS A PUNK
I KILLED HIM...

Orthodoxicity...

Orthodoxic Imbalance,
Sufferings of silence,
Khabit over these minds,
Unfortunately they die.

Why do we suffer ?
Why do we prefer ?
Why do we suffer ??
Why do we prefer ??

This killing and pain,
Agony all night,
slaughtary hands,
of these sadhus and their chants.

Made by mythological lusts,
all by relgious sluts,
The karma of bali,
is insanity in a hurry.

Greedy are their neurons,
Lustful are their veins,
Doped are their eyes,
Drunk are their gore minds,

"Om Hawasaya
Om Charasaya "
ARE THE CHANTS THEY BREATHE!!