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blastmaster baker - sick as a god lyrics

blastmaster baker

cro-magnon man dragged through the streets
parade on the day of his feast
sacrifice!
depravity tastes like a treat
a sign of his faith
or a mark of the beast?
either way – fait accompli
p-ss him the ashtray
lay palms at his feet
castigate man who defaults on his lease
and appease man the beast
with the absence of meat

stay vigilant
stay stations of the cross
stay making listicles
stay placing faith in symbols
stay crucifix, swastika
star stripe hammer sickle
stay indivisible stay p-ssed
stay pagan rituals stay reagan youth
stay meatless monday
stay verdun
stay human meat grinder
stay sid stay nancy
stay say no to drugs
stay play the game the right way
stay the f-ck home

skech185

liquor store hologen hums with the pastors. i’m numb to the ranting. they branded us hammites. and sanded down statues. now stranded in madness. with foreign modonnas, the bronzemans fortune has been masonry. patiently building a fortress of of banners and bannikers. this mystery sheepherder is panicking. he walks by himself. the flocks is at the range and checking each other for fangs. long gone is the time to “play dead.” on a stage we built play dead in the land of these wolves trying pay rent. or “play dead” in a room full of efforts to get famous for neighbors because sometimes when we “play dead” we don’t get back up. no treats, just treatments when we “play dead” praying for a slow week or play dead artist trying to explain a living struggle. or the jungle to a tourist who thinks saying “play dead” deserves a pat on the head

lt headtrip

95 diatribes nailed to the doors of the shrine to your paleo lord. heretic
displayed in his arian form, he domineers under a veil of decor. profiteers robed to the horns. so pope he could dodge sheer war crime horror. fear. blessed is he who obeys the appointed. spayed in the name of creation and glory. you shake in the presence of your maker. you tremble. living is reprehensible. citizens are expendable. your reverend’s sins are venerable. give him a shake. shake my divine primate paws and your habitual individualism. the voice of the lord shakes the wilderness while his toiling soldiers shake in their braces and shake their fists at their ventriloquist whose tremors shake loose their embroidery. born again militants poorly st-tched together. shake it off. k!ll for this

- blastmaster baker lyrics

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