Killing for the music and the music kills his pain-Psycroptipathnmentally he's screaming as his life drives him insanen-Psycroptipathnjudgement reigns upon him from those higher in the chainn-Psycroptipathnurges burning deep inside to go against the grain-PsycroptipathnThey take it all away, those drones who control his lifenprogrammed to deaden his soul,nthose dressed in suits taking holdnmasters of his life, though only nine 'til five,nday is just as the night, each day as it ends, it is only the startnreturning from that place, he again becomes alivenenters a place called home, to rest his bonesnturns to his music device, brings it to lifenIt fills him- soothes his soulnHears the blast, feels the beat, soaks in grind- cleans his mindnechoes the scream, grips his seat, feels his heart-beat fasternhe's so warm-but unstable-his rhythms changed-a beat unleashednSomething's flowing ten-fold when he does this every nightn-Adrenalinenover-active substance makes reality insane-Psycroptipathnblindly he's controlled by fluid flowing in his veins-Unnaturallynmentally he's swimming in a psychopathic dream- Psycroptipathnnow a summoning, seduced by a stirring, revenge is his masknfeels the dark urges to kill, it excites him sonhe will not be calm, until he sees the flownleaves his home and slips into the darkened nighttime,nprowls the streets intends to find some suited satansnhis moments of insanity are still directednrevenge is his motive and he knows his targetnhe sees two demons- leaving their day-nestntheir place for torture- paid for their pleasurencontrolling hundreds- gods in the daylightnA dark alley beckons- they answer its callnhis breath quickens- as does his heartnupon them in an instant, knife in his handnreaction so slow- rips them to shredsnNow their time- expired- they wasted life- dimmed lights-nnow they're essentially- powerlessnflesh carved from the bones, insides exposednwished he'd heard them moan, he saw them bleednNow he feels so mentally drained,nflow has stopped now revenge is attainednhe starts stumbling in the direction of his home,nhis mind is in pieces but he still feels so complete,nhe must rest soon his body is weakening,ntemporarily ruined by his mental statenAs he returns home his mind is back in realitynand the judgement he inflicted is now coursing through his mindnturns in over in his head as he does this every nightnwhen he gets high from aural infliction of that pounding musicnhe knows what he does is wrong though it feels right,nbut he will never feel guilt for in his mind- he is the victimn
Psycroptipath
Psycroptic
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Lyrics by Psycroptic
A Planetary Discipline Alpha Breed An Experiment In Transcience battling the misery of organon battling the misery of organon Carnival of Vulgarity Cleansing A Misguided Path Condemned by Discontent Cruelty Incarnate Epoch Of The Gods Lacertine Forest Merchants of Deceit Minions: The Fallen Missionaries of a Future to Come Netherworld Reality Of Dull Eyes Borne Of Dull Eyes Bourne Our Evolutionary Architecture Psycrology Repairing The Dimensional Cluster Skin Coffin Skin Coffin the colour of sleep the colour of sleep The Isle of Disenchantment The Labyrinth The Scepter of Jaar-Gilon The Sword of Uncreation The Valley of Wind's Breath and Dragon's Fire
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