Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

音效


界面


难度等级


口音



界面语言

zh

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie 政策   |   技术支援   |   FAQ
1
注册/登录
Lyrkit

5$

Lyrkit

10$

Lyrkit

20$

Lyrkit

和/或在社交方面支持我。网络:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
The Black Dahlia Murder

Jars

 

Jars

(专辑: Nightbringers - 2017)


My jars, wonderful jars, each labeled and stowed
Beneath the cellar floor where not a soul would ever know.
Preserved my sustenance to last the entire winter long.
These jars, my precious meat brined and pickled cuts of human beef.
Row after row, a pantry full of enemies.
Maintained and organized, a vast collection dear to me.
Each one a toy of mine. I revisit them when I should eat.
With zeal I recollect that very moment of their defeat.
Salting and curing every piece for my flesh feast.
(In jars) vessels immaculate, cylindrical and clean. (Their heads in jars.)
The lightless winter months have gone straight to my brain, know what I mean?
Here in my solitude, fed by my stock of dead (preserved in jars)
Their facial features warp, the laughter never ends. My foe, I win.
My jars innumerable, incalculable my pride.
Trophies of my love to hunt taken to such egregious heights.
Each one encapsulates a visage of that fateful night of those who have met their end by my ever still and sharpened skinning knife.
Brown sugared long pig, what a treat.
Obscenely orgasmic to eat.
For this scrumptious family recipe, I've saved you a seat.
(In jars) Vessels immaculate, cylindrical, and clean. (their heads in jars)
The lightless winter months have gone straight to my brain, know what I mean?
Here in my solitude, fed by my stock of dead, (preserved in jars)
Their facial features warp, defiled unto no end. Again I win.
Row after row, a pantry full of enemies,
Maintained and organized, a vast collection dear to me.
8-17-05, this collegiate girl did kick and fight.
The next sow bled September 9th, plucked from her tracks, out like the tide.
(In jars) vessels immaculate, cylindrical, and clean. (their heads in jars)
The lightless winter months have gone straight to my brain, know what I mean?
Here in my solitude, fed by my stock of dead. (preserved in jars)
Their facial features warp, defiled unto no end. Again I win.

完毕

你已经把这首歌里所有不熟悉的词添加了吗?