Pain
Of Salvation - Scarsick
SICK
it’s all SICK
I feel sick
I’ll be sick
then it’s fine
I’m conform
to your norm
with a bucket full of me
I’ll be free
finally
I will see
what you mean with your
freedom
this world you call home
not alone
happy drone
won’t be sick of these cars
all these codes
and these bars
all these sickening scars
I’ll believe in the way
of the stripes and the superstars
I will fall in line
and obey
'cause the price is so small
almost nothing at all
if l’m just losing ME
then the ideals and truths
will follow naturally
happily I will settle for
your conformative apathy
if l could just get rid
of this
unsettling
uncomfortable
unbendable
bucket of insight and honesty
this SICK SICK SICK bucket
of reality
but you see: this sick will
stick
'cause it’s ME
it’s ME
step into the dark age of
treason
today the only voice of
reason
would have to be the sound
of the soup of the season
hitting ground
hitting ground...
SICK
feeling sickened by this
fucking travesty
is just a sign of sanity
you’re not alone
and every time that you
hurt
every cut
every scar and
every time you just hate
everything that you are
it is simply the instinct
to flee
to escape from this mess
this continuous rape
of what’s true
and what’s real
so you gnaw at your paw
to get out of the trap
of the cage
of our time
all that rage
is your struggle to survive
they think you wanna die
when in truth you just strive
biting every hand
just to stay alive
but can you hear that sound
in you ear
growing louder and loader
the whole world around you
a pounding and grinding
that tells you that
you’re not alone
it’s the sound of
thousands and thousands
of vixen teeth
hitting BONE
step into the dark age of
treason
today the only voice of
reason
would have to be the sound
of the soup of the season
hitting ground...
SICK...
of these bars and these
cars
I feel sick
you are making me sick
so sick
you are making me sick
it's all sick
we're all sick
you are making me sick
soup of the season
hitting ground
Pain Of
Salvation - Spitfall
INTRODUCING STAR
we saw you every day
with your hands on your
crotch and so much to say
you went from bouncing toy
cars with golden motors
to neon striped BMWs and
a court of drugged up nodders and quoters
namefucking fame on all
photos
all cheered on and applauded
by even richer promoters
now when you’re a star
when you’ve reached this
far
and the world really knows
who you are
(really?)
you show off your six black
Mercedeses and drink Cristal like they all do
and the poor outside your
gates appall you
and the only hood you see
is the one on your car
do you even have a clue
as to who you are?
bro I don’t think so
I mean Mercedes
man what a stiff old dull
fart’s republican shit car
sick of hearing you preach
to the poor like before
only now you’re a coward
only letting TV through
your door
getting older
take a bow and just go
the rage on the stage getting
colder like your hits on the chart
but then the talk shows
can still get you hard
doin’ rhymes on your prime
time fistfights and spittin’ grime in the limelight like a star gets a
chip off your shoulder
a boulder that rolls and
rolls over and over and over
there’s nothing like a broken
childhood
there’s nothing like a broken
home
there’s nothing like a tale
from your hood
there’s nothing like a record
of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the
top
the longer that you fought
yourself up
the longer the spitfall
THUS QUOTE THE CRAVING
you’re so fucking lost that
with all of the costs
you still don’t see that
in reality
the one thing you fail to
buy yourself is a personality
you’re trapped in a mould
of the rap
you sell but you’re sold
I mean
can’t believe that you’re
paying all that gold
to some home decorator that
hands you buckets of conformity
seems you’re losing your
way together with your policy man
ending up with a new definition
of poverty
it’s a joke
like those you make in every
video
to reach the kids with the
dough
with every copied “aha yo”
and worn out “bro”
guess what we need is yet
another clown
who can feed our breed
with another look and hooker
hook
now when “bitch” is mundane
you take the lead with “wassup ho”
and let TV blur your mouth
once more
just what we need in every
store
thus quote the craving:
“forever more!”
you’re so right
a shiny knight on a white
steed
truly a hero
yeah right
fuck you
fuck you right down to the
core
you know what?
you’re just another Parental
Advisory bore
there’s nothing like a broken
childhood
there’s nothing like a broken
home
there’s nothing like a tale
from your hood
there’s nothing like a record
of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the
top
the longer that you fought
yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
when you’re rappin’ your
shit y’all
REDEFINING VOMATORIUM
yo
I guess when you’re that
loaded
you’d better empty the barrel
every chance you get
is that so?
empty your word and pose
magazine
in magazine after magazine
let every shot go let the
shit flow
‘cause the show must go
on and on and on
you’re it bro
but it’s sad to know
when your star implodes
all that shit hits the fans
just like your words back
when you shone
but it’s getting late in
the game
trapped in repeating your
name
again and again
like you’re scared we’ll
forget it
can’t blame you
apart from that name you’re
all embarrassingly the same
it’s so lame - can’t you
get it?
and perhaps you are right
in that fear
more sane than you appear
in your self deploring cock
obsessive
koks delirium
but I say
to me you just redefine
the old romans’ vomatorium
there’s nothing like a broken
childhood
there’s nothing like a broken
home
there’s nothing like a tale
from your hood
there’s nothing like a record
of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the
top
the longer that you
claim that you have fought
yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
MAN OF THE MASSES
you’re a man of the masses
took all of the classes
their asses are yours
all those bores who are
paying the bills
for your palace uphills
and your pills that will
help you proceed
in your greed
you are free of the chains
that you need on your fans
to adore you
to kneel down before you
more precious to you than
your brains and your hands
they live for you
if you could just see this
old tree
this patriarchic hierarchy
up where you want to be
you need miles of roots
to lick your boots
don’t you see?
you’re a man of the masses
you need all those asses
their fate to relate to
the one that you were
do you know who you were?
who you are?
not the one in your words
that they buy
they concur you conquer
though a natural flunker
and you need them to stay
not to fly
to obey like the dogs that
they are
the cogs under the hood
of your Mercedes car
they will pay for your trip
to the stiff upper lip
you’re a man of the masses
your trip is a journey through
classes
you are high
they are low
and you need it to be so
see, without them you’d
be nothing more than before
and you know that’s not
much
it is just or unjust such:
just a sad little man with
his hand on his crotch
there’s nothing like a broken
childhood
there’s nothing like a broken
home
there’s nothing like a tale
from your hood
there’s nothing like a record
of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the
top
the longer that you fought
yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
the longer the spit falls...
when you’re rappin’ your
shit y’all
YO
you’re just another Parental
Advisory sticker surfing beach boy
yo
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