S.H.A.D.O.W

My brain's dead. I don't really know who stuck the first needle, but now it's leaking cerebrospinal fluid( I think it's right. CBF, right?) and deflating and dripping through the holes. And I can't pop it back in this time, I can't even pick it up, because it's all liquefied and you can't really pick up a liquid,can you?I mean, unless you have a cup or whatever...

I'm pissed off at this new generation, this unusable mass of destruction-fascinated retards, computer-addicted geeks and nymphomaniacs. This new F-stamped batch won't even listen to my words, it rejects the mere idea of concentrating on what my lyrics mean. You see, I'm telling you all a pleasant 'Fuck you!' and still you kiss my hands as if I'm Jesus.

I don't really know if you all pushed a needle each, but would you please stop? It hurts.

You see, the cure to our society's disease is right here! See it? It's called common sense and intelligence! But I guess it's too much to ask of you; retards don't even know the meaning of those two! What are you stuttering for? Didn't you know this is what I've been sent for? To piss off the faces that smile at us, nod and laugh and shake hands with us, to poke needles in your brain, just maybe I'll reach a grain of intelligence, bring it to conscience. Are these words enough for you to understand? I don't give a damn! If you say I'm repulsive or if my lyrics offend you, don't you see? I can't even hear you! We're pages away from each other, your words aren't even a bother! So stop mumbling underneath your breath, about how my lyrics insult your pride; can't you see?Your pride died, about the time when you did, you and the idiocy tv spreads worldwide. Yeah, I've seen retards of all shades, some a 10 in stupidity and some even higher grades. Well, good for you! I guess now you can brag to your friends, about how you finally got a ten, about how you totally deserved it and about how you couldn't permit such an unfit teacher to teach you anything. You're so shallow I don't think you even have a bone marrow!

Something's wrong with my rhymes? How about those ten million crimes
that you see on tv every single fucking day,
until it reaches the point that you pray
that a pshycopath would rent a chainsaw
or that a madman would claw
at his eyes, at his tongue, at his hair, at his ears,
until there're no fears
left to devour
the ones that cower
beneath the all-seing eye of power.
Am I really single on this land of success,
the single fucking one who won't cease to express
his beliefs, his complaints,
the lack of relief and the gather of constraints?
That free will
that God gave us,is it really only to kill?

You brag and you sweep your fake blonde hair,
damn it, I can see your tits through the tops that you wear,
aren't you ashamed?
You future-prostitutes, you're just vain.

And you, you immoral morons! I'd call me a lawyer,
for my next employer
to not know of my last sexual harrasment
and hire a replacement,
cancel my emplacement
on the wall of fame:
'Hey, he's the employee of the month','Good job, Dave!
You've become the better slave'.

You fifteen million people with problems up there,
you'd better prepare,
for the day you'll learn how to write,
how to ignite
the spirit you had in you all the time,
just didn't know of it's existence.
Use persistence!
Fight!
For your beliefs, for what's right!
Never back down,
you smite the first so they won't kick you to the dirt on the ground.

Pull 'em down from their thrones,
pick up some stones
and puncture some lungs and pulverize bones.

Don't you get it?
Do something, bit by bit,
It's fine, however you can,
Just don't stay quiet if you have something to say, man...

Oh, now I understand! You don't get me because I'm spouting rhymes...