The Sequence

Counterclockwise, the haunted hour knocks twice
Special apparitions change collective conditions
There's a sacred tradition of plates insulting on the threshold
Reverse those in Trojan, approaching the death toll
Spirits from the hellhole, clench your teeth
Two chainsaws, a hacksaw, wrench and a beat
I mention the elite ones in a song from my past
With skulls and crossbones, pirate flags and half-masks
Skeletal cerebral, an inevitable evil
Without a first edition, there can never be a sequel
So we still instill our will when kill-mode is needed
Fill rows and rows of those opposed to close of hunting season
If there's anyone breathing, keep your hands where I can see 'em
You're not dreaming, it's a nightmare here, I've cleared the mausoleum
Sleep well in the deep well, you just fell to the fathom
And sing a song of sixpence, ravens and black phantoms

Bars grinding heavily, volcanic legacy
War plan is messily an organic recipe
I'm the Underground King with a cracked crown
I don't back down, shadow in the background
I've been doing this so long, there's no levels left
Flames flicker in my eyes, feel the devil's breath
Inventive, relentless, intent to crush you
Last two years, don't ask what I've been up to
For years I've been torn, but I'm back, I'm reborn
Mad's not broken but I'm cracked into four, let's record (aye)
Still little Thor, you don't want to go to war
Think it's over, I will show up at your door just to smash you
Insanity is beautiful, euphoric in it's own way
Halfway down this crazy road, that's a long way
Wake up every morning with a drill inside my brain
Poison still inside my vein, watch the killer rise again

Think [?] from the House of Wax cannot relax
Once the dye has been cast
Too much torment
The looks on their face are still caught in the moment
Starving and dormant, an ocular omen
I'm a well documented and confident showman
They move like the puppeteers controlling the wires
The tears and the fears of the deepest desires
The truthful, the liars, they're all on display
Different formations in white, black and grey
Crack you like clay from the natural Earth

Complex, scattered pattern poems, no contest
Haunted, still I found myself undaunted
We see everything, you're still blind
Not acting with a war filled mind
Make money, got to find something spiritual
Demons keep crippling my soul, crushing miracles
Don't worry 'bout my past, world of regrets
But I'm back to lead a hungry pack of wolves to success