A Darkly Fiction (feat. Destroyer)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Friday, February 10, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses

First edition dark fiction, causin' synapses to spark into action
Carcasses thrashin, smashin glasses and piling up marked victims
Prize fighters with belligerently sick whims, in live cyphers
throwing down gloves... letting hits in, smiling white through the crimson
twisted chef sharpening knives in the kitchen
slicing up ribbons, hordes of foreign spices - no ingredients missin
blastin bastards with sentences sentenced to half-past in the dimness
How's this for a darkly humorous image?
special forces soldier on unauthorized missions, splicing wires through haphazardous fissions
even when I half ass it, I still add the blast caps for ignition
accused killer, spending nights in prison.. so much trife, religion
gettin the right Rite repentance laws rewritten to avoid my life conviction
bold assassins - heathens teeming with spikes, sneaking with the demons & sprites
open your cellar doors... you'll find rising black lanterns and the creatures of light
shanks of steel. i'm grinning at death. cutting thru ranks i jest.
gouging out ya lungs, eyes, kidneys and pancreas
cities get pained and stressed when I bring in the cavalcade
my cabal blade is engraved with the names of all the lames I've slain
So when you say my name.. be sure to mention all the accolades -
cuz we've been cursed saints since the latter days.


You put me on, you gave me life - easily the most corrupt of the bunch
turned the grotesque into the beautiful.. like a rose growing out of a bucket of guts
Had a few brushes with brusque circumstances related to work advances
My boss sputtered: “will you let me go if I promote you?”
I rasped back: “Nothing’s guaranteed but it can’t hurt your chances”
A fertile mantis clipped her husband’s head off, topped it off with a Mein Kampf chant
I wouldn’t call backstabbers bloodthirsty, they’re just in dire need of a spine transplant
Real life won’t wait for struck gold in this wild goose chase for green
We’re too busy pluckin mushroom clouds with lawn mowers, call it the doomsday machine
I’m not here to lecture, I’m here to teach these clowns better self respect
Followed the blind until they put a leash around Helen Keller’s neck -
Fuck that shepherd Glenn Beck, and any misguiders, the shit’s tired
Everyday’s a poisonous forest full of vicious little critters & littered with tripwires
Corpses of clear blue skies, with glaring moons to finish it
If you find yourself a fish outta water… dial 1-800-Barracuda-Syndicate

In : Rhymed Verses 

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