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Down II: A Bustle In Your Hedgerow (16.03.2002)
16.03.2002
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. . .



Pray to someone
I'm going out of my head
Dislocate
Stay safe in your unmade bed

Lysergik funeral procession

The world is watched
Straight from your TV sets
Makes you ill
Turn off and drop out in spurts

Lysergik funeral procession

I get up, get ready to face this world
I come down
I come down so hard, I hit then bounce
In a pool of piss I lay

Once revived, I was better off like I was
In so many pieces
And I'm so damn mad, so fucking mad
To lose that special darkness
I've got nothing to lose


. . .



It took a lot to sell my soul
The same thing happened yesterday
I paid my price, then felt alive
But no pulse is within my veins

Never will I lie and say I'm still alive
Come what may to me, there's something on my side

I'm left with heart, 'cause inside me's gone
Compulsion drives me anyway
I play my part and my part is large
Makes me stronger every day

Never will I lie and say I'm still alive
Come what may to me, there's something on my side

One year and it ain't so bad
I'm trying to see things clearly
The clearer it gets, the more I'm confused
I'm thinking more about blindness
Thinking hard about blindness
Thinking purely of blindness

There's something on my side
There's something on my side
There's something on my side
There's something on my side...


. . .



I do one thing, I do it well
It takes up most of my time
The advantage is beyond me
This curse behind my eyes

My dead disguise don't work so well
Transparent to the world
But in my heart, if it bothers me
I'd kill myself and curl

I'm falling far from the sun
Lucifer's calling on ears that need some now
I gave my life to this and it's fooled me oh so well
The name they've given me is a man that follows hell
A man that follows hell

To live outside a city of grief where the quiet becomes pain
The human mind, and it's hard to believe, is the knife that splits the brain
Some may say I've got it made, what's all the crying for
It's a mirror I've got, a reflection of my loved ones out the door

I'm calling out to you all
Lucifer's falling, so far down
I gave my life to this and it fooled me oh so well
The proper term for me is a man that follows hell
A man that follows hell

A man that follows hell
A man that follows hell


. . .



Started from the start
Wearing out the headstones
Was the end, was the right
Taking out a life loan

Hey, old man
When I'm going six feet down
You gotta make that promise to me
A stained glass cross lay behind my head

When taken by the undertaker
No questions anymore
It's higher than the black sky
Get you lower than the floor

Hey, old man
When I'm going six feet down
You gotta make that promise to me
A stained glass cross looking down on me

Hey, old man
When I'm going six feet down
You gotta make that promise to me
A stained glass cross hanging over me

I was just a young boy
My father sounded crazy
My death he couldn't bear to see
Either joking, sleeping, lazy

Hey, old man
When you're going six feet down
I gotta make that promise to you
A stained glass cross lay behind your head

Hey, old man
When you're going under and down
I made a secret promise to you
A stained glass cross looking down on you


. . .



In the morning, it takes me quite a while to clear my head
And as the day moves on, I find it hard to smile at something said
So I took control, priority number one, and that's me
Then I cut the dragon's head off, and put away my gun, so let it be
So let it be

I'm dying prematurely, I'm wasting my life for sure
I'm trying to kill what's happening to me
A ghost along the Mississippi

I never thought before, a life could be so strange, but it is
And I guess my one a day, became ten or twelve or more, and more
But I've got a gift, it's something called my friends or love
With them and I combined, I'll beat an early end, it's been done before

No time of passing away, of losing just one more day
I'm trying to kill what's happening to me
A ghost along the Mississippi

Can't happen to me
Won't do it to me
Can't happen to me
Won't do it to me
Can't happen to me
Won't do it to me

Destroying what's got ahold of me
No more the ghost of Mississippi


. . .



I've come so close, it's almost hard to believe
When you're up close, it blinds you brilliantly
Just one rush can change your life forever
Just one push can end it all together

Why can't we learn from the plague that surrounds us
Learn from my mistakes
Learn from this mistake
Learn from our mistake
Learn from their mistakes

There's no shoulder to cry on when you have no shame
There's no finger to point when you are to blame
Open book, in my eyes shows you rain, then storming
I can't look, when covered by the nothing and the suffering

Learn from my mistakes
Learn from this mistake
Learn from our mistake
Learn from their mistakes
Learn from my mistake

Believe me, all my friends, in the ending of the story
There's no junkie out there with a happy ending
It consumes you, and haunts you like the devil
It's the art of the process that kills off all the rebels

Learn from this mistake
Learn from my mistake
Learn from our mistake
Learn from my mistake...


. . .



You can't fool the fool, 'cause I know it in my head
I just want the people to get some before they're dead
You can take my body and dry it in the sun

Seeing vultures circle overhead
This is the home of the beautifully depressed
Life is just a moment that rushes all at once
Letting the vultures surround me when I'm dead
I am the lord of the beautifully depressed

Endlessly, cum for me
Faithfully, bend for me
Lifelessly, hang for me
Endlessly, endlessly

Push me to the limit
I ain't afraid to die
Drive me to the limit
I proudly pledge to die

I dispell the madness by forgetting all the rules
You say I follow in the footsteps of pre-existing fools
Begging vultures to bury off my head
This is the hard life of the beautifully depressed

Endlessly, cum for me
Faithfully, bend for me
Lifelessly, hang for me
Endlessly, endlessly

Push me to the limit
I ain't afraid to die
Look before you're in it
Are you afraid to die

Then join the beautifully depressed
The beautifully depressed...


. . .



Now don't you worry none
Leave this part of yourself behind
I'm giving you back to yourself

So should you make the change
Or could you right them wrongs
For I cannot replace where I'm going
Where I'm going

So you're angry with me
What could be better, my love
Have most of everything for yourself

Hateful and deserved
Charlie Manson's eyes
Are looking through you back to myself

So should I act my age
Or should I just not belong
For I cannot replace where I'm going
Where I'm going...


. . .



[Instrumental]


. . .



The 1800s, before the inception
Of modern day ideals
Fake grip of appeals
Straight to the street run, no barroom virgin
Double vision, cocaine
To a whorehouse of pain

New Orleans is a dying whore
Naked she sleeps on my floor
New Orleans is a dying whore

The spreading highway
To the underwater staircase
Leading up to a black room
To leave there you're a fool
Mob world politics
So broke it can't fix
Trapped in a time zone
There's no place like home

New Orleans is a dying whore
If ?? break down the door
New Orleans is a dying whore

New Orleans is a dying whore
Stripped down and beat to the floor
New Orleans is a dying whore

New Orleans is a dying whore
Blood covered, stuck to my floor
New Orleans is a dying whore


. . .



Smoke up, do what you must do
Wake up, inhale the earth grown fumes
Higher than mountains, but oh so goddamn deep
The morning star we reach, think for yourself
And that's you, you times a million

Look around, we surround the fields
On guard for the perfection of the seed
Perfection of the seed

Try hard to stop us which you can't
Outnumbered by the marijuana camps
Larger than nations, I can't name one without
Must kill the king of drought
Planting of pleasure, rising up, stretch towards the sky

Look around, we surround the fields
On guard for perfection of the seed
Perfection of the seed

This way of life has become an addiction
Despite right or wrong and their closed superstition
This way of life has become an addiction
Despite right or wrong, despite right or wrong
Despite right or wrong

Perfection of the seed...


. . .



Sometimes I feel like a man that has two broken hands
All of this thrown at me, sinking me neck deep in sand
They can't kill me no more, I don't know what to say 'cause it's lies
Lies

Underneath all this, they should see the man that I am
All of my life I've been tried and then persecuted
They can't kill me no more, I don't know what to say 'cause it's lies
Lies

Underneath all this, they should see the man that I really am
I've been tried and persecuted
Lies

Undenied
Cold shackles inches from the knife
I defy
What's mine shall be but nothing stands the time
Not surprised
It's the same to sleep as it is to rise
Lies

Undenied
Cold shackles on my hands, inches away

Death or life
Look deeply into my eyes
Fire on fire
Way to be and get a fucking ride
Some desire
A "fuck you" soars through the sky
Lies


. . .



[Instrumental]


. . .



Slow time, deaf to all the hearing
Blinded to the seeing, nothing's so revealing
Some day I might leave here
I'll get what's comin' to me one day
These days my eyes are empty
Hard times for the son of a bitch

Self inflicted, I'm gonna fall flat
Unpredicted, that's where I'm at
So addicted, dog tired in the fast lane

Break down, devastate to kneeling
Suffering to bleeding, all the chance of feeling
Some day I might destroy here
I'm gonna get what's coming to me one day
These days my life is empty
Hard times for the son of a bitch

Self inflicted, I'm gonna fall flat
Unpredicted, that's where I'm at
So addicted, dog tired in the fast lane

Dog tired in the fast lane
Dog tired in the fast lane
Dog tired in the fast lane
Dog tired in the fast lane

Self inflicted, I'm gonna fall flat
Unpredicted, that's where I'm at
So addicted, dog tired in the fast lane
Dog tired in the fast lane...


. . .



Lords, can it be mistakes
Throughout the constant vows of the lost and gone, blind and wrong
Inside a faith without a home, a fire that is cold
But grows so well, who's to tell, about it all
A nation cannot see, the hardest part to take
Is not for me, the dying trees

This is what wars are made of
Haunted...

The readings cracked and grey and plagiarized to date
Altered by the bastards of pure disguise of seas and skies
The pagan drums should wake, the sleeping of the fools to forget the
church's language
Who's the fool, me or you
The greatest mask of fate, the longest battle through the text of great
predictions
For me and you, the old and new

This is what wars are made of
Haunted...


. . .


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