Dead Hours

Basking in this afterglow of power Feelin' like I'm chosen In the strike of the dead hours It's the fear that leaves you frozen In the corner of your room A shadow stands and softly whispers Every thought that comes to mind is of demise Ya slowly slippin' In that murder murder redrum Backwards speaking serpent tongues A detriment I have become through out the land you'll hear it sung Bring the worship to my feet I rock the cradle of the beast Never knowing who I am It's the master of mystique Feel the creep of the bugs as they crawl under skin I cast these evil thoughts into your mind Now watch my reign begin Hallucinations mass devastation I'll soon be tasting Power like no other so corrupted By the force of faithless Rebel yell give 'em hell Fuck the opposition I will not eat what I am fed There's poison in the vision Change the source and break the will Recode this mind to see what's real Never scared of the feel I chase it for a new thrill Deadly touch gore lust I want to feel the rush Crushing all my enemies inside my hand they turn to dust Incinerate these abominations no room for weak Just close your eyes and sense the line There's nowhere for ya to retreat Pray to this trinity of three These unholy venomous ways Will get ya caught up in the dark so be careful of what you say Crossing boundaries of the norm I meditate within the storm The thunder glows upon my horns Within my eyes you see the scorn I must admit that I'm insane Deep in my mind I've seen the proof Upon inspection of my brain it shows the violence I produce It's evident that everyone is out to get me Even birds are staring down They send malevolence within their evil chirps But still I seem to keep it calm Because in life there is a purpose Suicide is not the answer Let the Trio guide you further Light your blunt put down the gun The Trinity will spit its sermon We dont need no interruptions Cut that noose and stop your squirming Motherfucker You got some tats and now you think that you're a god Don't claim to be holdin' Glocks In the south when you're really not You're a mockery just a flop Spittin' garbage within your copies of Memphis shit and its not even relevant We can't understand you Our founding fathers are rolling within their graves All these phonies and imitations Are ruining what was sacred We rap just to get away Only facts but these fuckin' fakes had a different outlook on things I guess weakness is cool today This world is gone I can't believe it Our music has been infected by ignorance and depression Ignoring the hidden message That people are supposed to hear Instead of poppin' all that Xanax Busta boy just slit yo wrists and kill yo damn self I'll let the demons just decide on what to do with all that's rotten And sickened you cannot change armageddon What was it worth in the end? I hope you learned a good lesson Now bow your head to the three And feel the weight of the devil