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Job For A Cowboy




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  J  →  Job For A Cowboy  →  Albums  →  Doom

Job For A Cowboy Album


Doom (11/09/2005)
11/09/2005
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. . .


Let me out!
Let me out!
Let me out!
Let me out of here!

. . .


It breathes.
What stands before us is not a machine,
it breathes, it will bleed, and it will sleep.
Its body is covered in hundreds of wires.
The mouth attempts to speak but,
Only murmers collapse from its jaws.
With only delayed movements from its figure we all begin to strain.
My legs weaken at the site of this damanged program,
For this program kept you breathing, it kept you alive.
These circuits diffused once more.
We kneel and we plead for no mourning ahead of us,
Entombment of a machine.
So Sleep, sleep among us and hesitate no more.
I saw it die

. . .


Her mouth stands to convey swarms of plague, time slowly corrodes as her jaws have locked into place. At the grips of her own hands this woman carries her victims to their passing, they hold back tight. For when this woman arches back her skin sheds from her bare limbs, her own flesh begins to pile at her own feet. This disease continues to dialate as it imerses through the air, she can no longer hide what she is. Contamination grows in the town where she lays and sleeps, she can no longer hide what she is. Her people before her beg only for forgiveness as their flesh begins to
peel from their bodies, their flesh pile at their own feet

. . .


His landscape has been scorned with death. once a city now

Laid to ash.

A decaying father has left his bastard son with his addictions by his side. chased away, consumed from his fixations, this mans life went down in flames. chased away what he's created,

His hunger grows.

There is no end to this life of fixations, dear father, i'm waiting ill, save you a seat in hell, there is no end to this life, life of fixations, dear father, i'm waiting ill, save you a seat in hell!

He will remain a walking corpse his legs will move forward.
For his addictions itch at his throat only to crave more of the blood he seeks.

For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child
For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child
For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child
For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child

He stands knee deep in the blood of his bastard son.

For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child
For this man only thirsts for blood, the blood of his child

When buried, his tomb will breathe, his hands will rise from his shallow grave begging only for sleep.

Dear father, i'll be waiting, saved you a seat in hell
Dear father, i'll be waiting, saved you a seat in hell

He stands knee deep in the blood of his bastard son
He stands knee deep in the blood of his bastard son


. . .


Blood begins to spill from an open sea, dead bodies churn within the tide. Attachment. They drift against a now reddened sea. These rising waters blush as their bodies decompose. Dozens of corpses buried at sea, they swim in their graves. They've proved themselves being too weak for this attachment, the tide rises, the tide breaks. I hope I have made my last point, for the weak have fallen and I now stand alone. They now all swim in their own graves

. . .


Goodbye, I'll mend your loss. Your ashes and embers will soon light up the skies. The carcass of your martyr burns, in the process of punishment. You only have yourself to blame, so take my hands, for you will be burned before their eyes. What more does it take to see your death? How much must be done to see you choke. Let the carcass of the martyr burn in the process of punishment. Suspended by the throat, the knot chokes tight

. . .


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