DESCRIPTION:
-A walking shed-skin spirit
-A crate of sick illusions
-oozing through the rusted will
-of a corroded man

I do wish I could shed myself
Leave behind this old hate
Let the aggression collapse unto myself
Like a supernova rage

Not for the men of clay
For men-of steel
The world bent to our will

We do it all the time
Break people
Feed them with carefully processed agendas
Overrun their judgment with bullshit stories
Until they crack

Just enough to stick our tongues through
Now it's just a matter of play
To see the ego collapse
Until we will cease to be entertained by a breaking of a person

Drained of self-worth
Paralyses of the ego
It's feeding time
Scavenger
Chewing scraps of will

Clay head
Play dead
Roll over
Beg

Malfunction of the mirror
A half thought of worthiness
Needs to be disposed
Waste of flesh

Clay head
Play dead
Roll over
Beg

Cowing eyes
Peeking through the filthy crust
Rotten apple girl
Rotten womb
Shit stained panties

Charcoal spirit
Sewer of a soul
Beyond fixing
Dried beyond recall

Injected with sleeper thoughts
Triggered by a split second of virtual show interest
To be awakened
When we are bored

Human souvenirs
Old rags to tear it
To sharpen the claws