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Vendetta Red




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Vendetta Red Album



2003
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. . .


Our days are numbered 666
And I'll begin the countdown by calling off the circus
Somewhere in these cryptic scriptures
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of

Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose

Our days are numbered 321
When you bit the bullet
I held the smoking gun
Somewhere in these violent volumes
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of

Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These masculine memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose

And I would stick up half of my cold eye
To set you on your head
If I were you then I would memorize this loose lipped lullaby instead of waiting
Carving out your own

Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
Follow we went around

Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose

. . .


Hey I am sure to fall this time around
And I could look you in the eye but you never show your face
Something sticky in your ears turned to logic
And what you reiterate is meaningless to me

Save yourself because you're dying slowly
Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye

Tore the buttons off your coat to keep the wind out
Banged your head against the sky to touch the ground beneath
Held a candle to the sun to drown the twilight
But when you bruise you never bleed no you never cryout

Save yourself because you're dying slowly
Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye

Strong carry on carry me home
Serve your flesh circuts unknown
Stitches sewn to leave me alone
Crane your neck when I crawl

Save yourself because you're dying slowly
Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye

Does it make you sick?
The smell of daddy's sweat
The taste of daddy's spit
Crawl blood in blood out

. . .


Something soulless told you it hates you.
They wear their sheepskins, but you are the monster
Breathing men would kill.
Lucy don't go.
Hold me, haunt me.
Tinctures taunt you, when you are the monster
Breathing men would kill.
Blame me for this as you sit in your counting room
Coughing up blood just to spit it in my mouth.
Soon you'll be gone and the rain will wash you away.
Tucked in and gagged now say your prayers
Lipstick tourniquets work when the poison
Begins to take hold.
And for what reward?
So the simple can suck on the rinds.
Breathing men would kill.

. . .


This will be the farewell I could never speak
The things I long to tell you when we're lying cheek to cheek
You're oh so certain, simple self-assured
I'm lucid, languid, listless, unconcerned
I wish that I could clarify clairvoyance to the class
There seems to be no savior in sight
And you could candidly disguise your hate with out stretched hand
To justify some martyr's moral plight
But you know it ain't right
Choking I just bit off more than I could chew
Saved my sentiments for someone more like you
Who's oh so certain, simple, self-assured
I'm lucid, languid, listless, unconcerned
I wish I had a blanket big enough to block the sun
So I could live in everlasting night
And feast on mortal blood till I've removed their scours from earth
Then cast the bloated carrion from night
But I know it ain't right

. . .


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