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Lament - Astoria II, London, 29th of April 1996

de Rozz Williams

Put your money on the table, bastard
Where the autopsy is performed
This is the man killer
Plug him into the wall, fist up his ass
A torture of no more questions filling up his hollow
He has, among other things, been decapitated
Permanent loss of flesh
Solid metal stripping off his body
Solid metal stripping off his skin
Made him feel durty, yet pure

Every perversion is created, perpetrated by mankind
What did you expect? Brighter skies?
Meat with the body removed?
Impossible to reach, forearms limited and painful
Weakness is indirect violence

His legs had been spread wide apart
Where a bottle grew
Had been inserted
A six year old envelope
Greater pains without sharp edges
Gun-shot head shot gun-shot head shot
External thought contains depression
No danger

You cannot let anyone come
Between you and your various
Motives for killing
No way for you to deny jail and panic, refuge

Drunk
Go home in different parts
Torn muscles at the point of conflict
This will be a long time healing
Information intrudes on effective victory
It is time to cut out the hearts of the world!
Police time!
Desire for punishment, yearning
It has always been unlocked, a horrible sight to see
At the same time

Contrast with the ordinary method the ordinary world
I am loaded with my own dry blood
In this box where I lay
Bastards beasts mind-fuckers!
I am locked into a sexual frenzy
Organized as a matter of fact
By the rape of intelligence
I am not expected to survive, of course not
Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn!
And now all is quiet
Young blood mix
Thick
Right now fuckers!
Right now fuckers!
Right now fuckers!

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