lyrics Archive

When the Ghosts Have Died

Posted January 28, 2011 By Chvad SB

When the Ghosts Have Died

Everyone…. Everywhere… Everything…
Everyone…. Everywhere… Everything…
Consider me.
Consider me.

Why be afraid?
You’ve got what you’ve made.
So, Guilt, why hide your head?
Regret, didn’t make your bed.

The things that go bump in the middle of the night,
no longer do they scare.
The monsters of the world breast beating in their rage,
no longer do they care.

War drums pound in no particular direction…
The words would have meaning…
There’s no particular inflection…
Supernatural fear… disappear.
When the ghosts have died.

Everyone…. Everywhere… Everything…
Everyone…. Everywhere… Everything…
Consider me.
Consider me.

Why be afraid?
You’ve got what you’ve made.
So hoard and take what’s yours:
Your fear and snake oil cures.

The things that go bump in the middle of the night,
no longer do they scare.
The monsters of the world breast beating in their rage,
no longer do they care.

War drums pound in no particular direction…
The words would have meaning…
There’s no particular inflection…
Supernatural fear… disappear.
When the ghosts have died.

–Chvad SB

Copyright 2010 Chvad SB. All rights reserved.

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Mettle IV: Headcleaner

Posted October 15, 2009 By Chvad SB

Mettle mov.IV: Headcleaner

Hollow crevice, nothing real
Infected sludge passes as “brain”
No different from things made of steel,
No thought inside, only stains…
Of what once could have been.
Now proven steel products are as tin:
Fold and crush when made to think.
Fold and crush when made to think!

–Chvad SB

Copyright 1997 Chvad SB. All Rights Reserved.

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Mettle II: Structure

Posted October 15, 2009 By Chvad SB

Mettle II

One…
Two…
Three…
Four…

this is what you’re used to

–Chvad SB

Copyright 1996 Chvad SB. All Rights Reserved.

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Eve of Separation

Posted October 15, 2009 By Chvad SB

Eve of Separation

Wait . . . behold manipulate.
Behind every color there’s a hue of hate
Every black, every white, every yellow colored seed
Every type of shade of shit: Always driven by greed.
Every open mouth I see a sea of shit dropping out
Lead with a reason, then the reason keeps dropping out.
Replaced with green, all the money covers well
Your own cankerous stench, you never seem to smell.

Kill for the money, kill for the money… Kill
Kill for the money, yes indeed, it’s fun time

Politically correct can strip my clothes and suck my dick
If I were a woman and not a man
You’d strip my clothes and lick my clit
Profit at the expense of others and a stench you never smell
In the rancid crotch of lovers fucking seems to profit well
When the meat’s gone bad: get your money = gender = need
Equal Rights don’t mean shit when what they care about is greed.
I can preach that you’re worthless one hundred different ways
But read my green, it’s down: you’ll continue in your daze

Kill for the money, kill for the money… Kill
Kill for the money, yes indeed, it’s fun time

Order of appearance does not dictate importance of being;
Fuck you: nigger Fuck you: whitey Fuck you: kike
Fuck you: woman Fuck you: gook Fuck you: faggot
Fuck you: slope Fuck you: dyke Fuck you: whop
Fuck you: man Fuck you: nip Fuck you :spic
Fuck you: -insert here-
We are now accepting applications…
all races, genders, and sexes welcome.

–Chvad SB

Copyright 1996 Chvad SB. All Rights Reserved.

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Distorted Thoughts, Distorted Visions

Posted October 15, 2009 By Chvad SB


Distorted Thoughts, Distorted Visions
(In the Black Hole Part 2)

I hate…
the poison that you’ve placed in my heart.
I hate . . .
you, now that you’ve torn me apart.
I hate,
the love that I still have for you.
I hate,
the two-faced fuck that you’re giving yours to.
I hate.

I hate,
the black hole in place of my soul.
I hate . . .
myself, now the light in me is coal.

I hate the thought of convergence with another,
I hate the fact that I always will love her,
I hate the tears that flow from my eyes,
I hate the wretched excuses and lies,
I hate the pain . . . it’s all there is for me,
I hate the pain, I love it . . . and it loves me.

I Hate,
the poison that you’ve placed in my heart.
I Hate . . .
you, now that you’ve torn me apart . . .
I Hate.

–Chvad SB

Copyright 1996 Chvad SB. All Rights Reserved.



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