Theatre Of Creeps

(albüm: The Circle Of Tyrants - 2005)

[ILL BILL:]
Circle of Tyrants
Circle of Tyrants
Attack you like the Dawn of the Dead

I sent you all to Satan
Sent you to the devil, decapitated
Splattered, degraded
Rather amazing matters of hatred
Manifestation
The cannibal data related to random standards in cases
Fucking faggots stabbed in they faces
Buckets of acid
Hitchhike with truckers in traffic
I'm stuck on a path where the outcome is nothing but tragic
My outward appearance is nothing but average
Inside of my brain structrure the primary function is madness
Torture these traitors
Put their blow torches to faces
Corpses in my basement
Torsoes are my favorite
Autopsy's invigorating
Killing you is refreshling and liberating
Playing with the dead is extensively titilating
Humans are extremely expensive but really tasty
Sell you on the Black Market in pieces to anybody who pays me
Limited quantity
Culinary sodomy
Unique cuisine, delicacy
The ultimate equality

[Necro:]
I'm Ogrish
As vulgar as you can get
Cut out your vulva
My cult of the dead
Eats from your skull
Pulverize like a vulture's molars
My goal is dicing up Cindy Margolis
And placing her flesh on slices and serving you hemoglobinisis
Its priceless
I'm savage, artistic like the vampire of Paris
Sadistic
Start a campfire
Reminisce of massacres lifted
Blast through a pillow
I'm a sick bastard like Andre Chikatilo
Slay the padre
Watch the silhouette of a killer glow
Dusted like Repka's artwork
Like Carcass' "Heartwork"
Like an aardvark searching through organs like carparts rocking a Cardhardt
Ritual sacrifice is human appetizers
I capitilize on this cannibalism violence advertisements
My cypher of tyrants are trifer than pirates
Like lifers that killed wifey with knives
A violent viking's in Ice Age
Smacking Satan
Invading your crib like Patrick Bateman
With a hatchet waiting making a theatric statement

[Goretex:]
They call me Fondlecorpse
Cater for every occasion
Home invasion
Caving in brains
That's what I call entertainment
Anachronistic
With' two biscuits that clip through your discus
The gore grinder
Cause I'm down to the last 6 on my hit-list
I'm a sick kid
Pieces of skull and blood on my ticksis
Too much brown acid
Used to be in love with the business of killings
Stitching the scalp of another innocent victim
Buried face down
You're similar to a faggot who takes it in him
Basically a waste of skin
I've returned and sent him a telegram
A body count with two legs
Shattered next to the hexagram
My handy camming
I make like squeaky and stab it
My circle fam is supreme bandits
Murdered like speed handlers
Dirt on the canvas
Torso fuck shorter than Danzig
Saw off your legs and walk on your hands like you was dancing
March of the pigs
Newest shipments, cartons of wigs
The killer's smile
You know the symptoms when the coughing begins

[Mr. Hyde:]
The prince of evil erupts
Cut you cunts into cutlets
You fucking faggot punks
A bunch of sluts that'll suck dick
We bust clips at cops
And trust kids with Glocks
We'll thrust in the ox of puss, drips and drops
Rocking bloody bone chains and veins
My cult's strange
Known to indulge in pain
Crack skulls, expose brains
While God's forsaken me there's carcass cooking in my bakery
Scraping off your skin and string it up my wall as drapery
Dramatically battering you
Emphatically splattering you
Sporadically ravaging like a scavanger do
Sharpen claws
Ripped and tore your shit
You're dead and sure to twitch, bitch
Your blood and piss is pouring out of every orifice
Corpse grisly and grim
I use my scissors to trim
The blue corset from the host
As I efficiently skin
Spin the record around
I chop your ventricles down
You'll see my tentacles found you
Now you enter the ground

[ILL BILL:]
Circle of Tyrants
Circle of Tyrants
Attack you like the Dawn of the Dead