Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930

(album: Octagon - 1995)

Sixteen years of age
The suburb sets the scene
Sixteen years of rage withheld and concealed
Doors locked. Curtains drawn. Rehearsals begins
Preparations made. The axe gets a final trim
Shadowed figures came at night
The hands would clutch and strike his thighs
The kid would not even be weeping
This kid pretending he's sleeping

Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930

Kept within his young strained mind all this damn time
Not a hint at what grew steadily inside
The hate during prayer at supper and the suppressed at school
The need to be able to strike back grew

Memories of fingers penetrating
Years of terror generating emotions functioning as fuel
When this kid walks down his parents room

Parts of bodies found. The blood splattered all around
The result of the hate unleashed. Just one shot was heard
This suburb neighbourhood disturbed
This pained mind has found peace
In the backyard. Shotgun at his side
Difficult to identify. Sixteen years of age and dead
Sixteen years of rage to an end

Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930