ترانه:
A Perfect Murder Choke

The times we had shared the same ideals The times we had been holding hands Now come to an end Now my hands are crushing your neck. So quick to wash away

Diving head first into this hopeless world. I was born to breathe not to choke. Can you see my wounds. Can you feel my pain. Cease to breathe. Cease to

get gone, get gone) {*gun shot*} Gonna get gone, aiyya, aiyya (get gone, get gone) {*gun shot*} [Chorus] [Daz] (?)'s a herb, call the choreographer the murderer

Who was a fantasy I don't mean to damage your ego You faggots wanna rassle I shove a fucking jar of vaseline up inside your asshole And rope it shut with a

will make abyss' look shallow Each page of my speech holds the rage of a beast On a stage I laid in a locked cage on a leash A literary stake I drive

king I'm quite just, but it's just quite impossible, a robe and a robe and a robe and a bat, no double class inverse could make lying worth dying Right

, in-between, Some choke and some breathe, A fact of life in this plutocracy, As the best of the worst plan our lives, A mass murder of the spirit cuts

Who was a fantasy I don't mean to damage your ego You faggots wanna rassle I shove a fucking jar of vaseline up inside your asshole And rope it shut with a

was a fantasy I don't mean to damage your ego You faggots wanna rassle I shove a fucking jar of vaseline up inside your asshole And rope it shut with a