Death Machine Songtext
von Bruce Haack

They are hate and they are best
They when deceivers draw their final frozen breaths
Hide them up as if you′re going to tie them down

Chain them to your kind of madness
Let them know the sadness
They gave to you

Let them fall down on their knees
Begging us never to manipulate the screams
See them squirming, offering to link your boots

Give them nothing they can cope with
No one they can hope with
Nothing to do


Now as you communicate
Show them your power as you let them watch and wait
When they know that they can never understand

Madness be their consolation
Fear and masturbation
Met their demons

Fuck the horican-tropic acids
Poured from philosophic stines
Who could love the wretched bastards
With their nukey water vines

Fuck their feelings, fetic reason
Forming, forming out the hides
Saints reserve the holy season
When their sons become their prides