The metallic voices in the distance
tell me it's time to don my armour
oh well I knew it was close
but not this ****** close

So I stroll down to the cafe
where the **** always hits the fan
and I ask for a coffee made with hate
then leave my tip, a suitcase there

Hate has come a way with me
distractions a fertile bed fellow
and today I really want to hate
by the will of God let me die

I am burning inside
like a ***** losing fingers
I need to **** some more
it comes to me. That figures

Just a broken little war machine
oh yeah that is all of me
a puppet of disaster
waiting for destruction

They called my number
then made me see red
so this war monster
is another number dead


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris