UG Riot (Church)

Blank out thoughts of tomorrow,

We're gonna drink to sorrow,

Stack our bile up on a platter,

'Coz, In the end it doesn't matter.

Bleached out from all depression,
Compressed with warm congestion,

Sultry breath and twisted navels,

Of the helpless and the rebels.

Gather 'round; join hands, for this one-track, one-night stand...

Riot in the underground,

Swaying arms to the lusty sounds,

Losing faith, going far away,

Just to come by another day.

Riot in the underground.

Damp emotions, burnt and drowned.

Someone help! We've gone astray.

But it doesn't matter anyway..
. . .

Ground powder, addiction doses,
On hallucinated beds of roses.

Pricking thorns and rusty cushions,
Covered with slime of confessions.

Dusky eyes and a smoky ceiling.

Neon lights, and a sinking feeling.

Gonna set the world on fire,

Take a stand on top of the pyre,

Gather 'round. Join hands, for this one last, one-night stand!

Riot in the underground,

Swaying arms to the lusty sounds,

Losing faith, going far away,

Just to come by another day.

Riot in the underground.

Damp emotions, burnt and drowned.

Someone help! We've gone astray.

But it doesn't matter anyway..
. . .

Hate

I tread with hatred in my step.
I arrive, with a burning heart.

Return; to take back, what is mine,
And come to tear you apart.

Your eyes were a tint of viridian pale,

As you stabbed me where I lay.

Plunged a dagger, deep in my spine,

And left, as I rotted away.

But the grim had others plans for me,

So I stand; and do be warned.

No wrath in hell's as blind and vile,

As the soul that you had scorned.

So, celebrate this morbid sunset,

Dance to the mandolin, one last time.

Distance yourself from regrets.

Until my blade cuts through your mind.

I come to guide you towards your end;

A revenge, that I penned in silence.

As I strike up a bonfire of intent,

To sever the strands of your existence.

Do not grimace at me, when I say,

That my hatred is a virtue.

Turn, and look me in the eye.

And I promise, that I will hurt you.

And when the war-horns stop to sound,

Your destiny shall be addressed,

That pride shall perish underground.

When on your heart, with forced finesse,

My vendetta; I would finish to paint.

Without pitiful mercy or rebate,

And then shall fall, the mighty saint,

With this blade of mine, that I call "hate".

Trouble in Paradise

This town is breaking up, on a joy-ride.

Rifts and sorrow, cracks the world inside.

The souls keep tugging on the chains of thought.

As free will decays, and perception rots.

The bands play a tone of misery.

We point to ourselves, and I point at me.

What was the sole reason, for faith to break?

Was it all planned out, or a just bad mistake?

The sky is set alight by a sudden flare.

Strangers flying by, can't help stop and stare.

While all we ever fought for, was liberty.

Didn't know we're bearing torches of anarchy.

Down a pint of nostalgia,

'Cause the seams have come undone,

The seams have come undone...

As a Dreamland floating in the sky,

Has been deserted, and abandoned.

And now; it's crashed and burnt.

Drain all your feelings,

Because, the pain has just begun.

The pain has just  begun.

As a Dreamland floating in the sky,

Was deserted and abandoned.

And now; it's crashed and burnt.

. . .

Clinging to horizons graft in sight and sound,

While screams of joy filter underground.

Now, all I want to do, is think this world into dust,

Our faith keeps on leaking, but it's covered in rust.

One king is gone astray, while two stay back,

Prayers of doubt fill the swelling cracks.
And right before our eyes, trees turn into stone,

Is this end, the beginning of us walking alone?

The ground shakes alive, in circumvention,

We all sing in silence for an intervention.
Coz we never really thought that we'd come so far,

The blemish, now turned into a burning scar.

Down a pint of nostalgia,

'Cause the seams have come undone,

The seams have come undone...

As a Dreamland floating in the sky,

Has been deserted, and abandoned.

And now; it's crashed and burnt.

Drain all your feelings,

Because, the pain has just begun.

The pain has just  begun.

As a Dreamland floating in the sky,

Was deserted and abandoned.

And now; it's crashed and burnt.

. . .

Lapdog

Can you feel the world turn?
Into a comedy of falling shit.
Ruled by a talentless mass,

Of  harlots and hypocrites.

And you're their 'audience',
As they whore for attention.
They don't care what you think,
Unless you pay per circumvention.

You're just a lapdog,
And you fetch what they desire.

Slowly, turn you into,
A commercial satisfier.

With your tragic maturity,
All you can do is make-believe,
But they're just neo-extortionists.
Don't even know that we exist.

Indulging in social masturbation,

Mapping the decay of our generation.

To them, everyones just another view,

Doesn't matter if it's me or you...

. . .

Through a million subway tubes,
And wires, tangled on a graph;

Can you hear the cynical tone,
Of a fading nervous laugh?

Thats intended towards you and,
Every subscription that you make.
And every little thing you do, here on.

Is just one more big mistake.

Cause, you're a lapdog,
And you fetch what they desire.

Lately, you've turned into,

A commercial satisfier.

But you'll beg to differ, now,

Try and make up arguments, somehow.

As you realise, that you've been used.

Fooled, manhandled, played, abused.

But in the end, the truth doesn't change,

No matter how much you rearrange.

And there is nothing left to say,
'Cept every Lapdog, has his day.
. . .

Brat

Yes, I did write this as a hate song. Yes it is based on someone I know. No, I don't hate the person. Okay, maybe I do, but I choose to ignore him\her. Enjoy "Brat"...

BRAT

You've been growing up,

As your parent's favorite son.

And that probably, is because,

You're just the only one.

Leaving behind, glaring trails,

Of abuse and white lies.

Everyone's your enemy,

And you're always victimized.

But trust turns to dust, and faith does rust,

When you bite beyond what you need.

The world starts to rot, and your fallacies are caught,

If you slit the wrist of a hand that feeds.

Growing up, a brat,

Now you get your due dose of reality.

Like a diplomat; fallen from his perch of neutrality.

Get used to these shackles,

Not like you deserved anything else.

Cause all-in-all, you've brought this upon yourself.

Brat.

 Now you're laying down,

On a pile of cheap regrets.

Lamenting shallow words,

And smoked-out cigarettes.

Thinking to your morose self,

That the whole world is unfair.

Talking to yourself, in denial,

Singing that nobody cares.

You won't amend; just pretend,

You will flatter, beg, and you will plead.

You're a liar and a cheat, and you won't retreat,

To slit the wrist of a hand that feeds.

Growing up, a brat,

Now a full-size bulging lump.

Your mind ought to be served with the sanctity of junk.

Take a look around,

At all the lives and dreams,you've screwed;

And tell your asphalt brain that it's all because of you!

Brat.