Fuck Your Dead Heart — Machinemade God

Disease ridden, cobwebs reside in your head. Yet you remain walkin on this earth (Deceiving and demanding the best). A manifestation of agony gathers around your name. And I swear to god, I would murder you, if I knew how. Your name appearance, I searched for it among those tombstones....

but at the sight of you I fled (Away from you darkened silhoutte). A plot to tear down the world, distrust and disbelief coincide until it is proven (otherwise). The consolation prize is a dagger and a knife, handed to you on a silver plate with step by step instructions, directing them into your chest.

FUCK YOUR DEAD HEART!!