Madness Tachometer
Ugly dealings, foul conditions —
Fiends now rule the global stage.
Darkness thickens with their missions,
Spilling lies and breeding rage.
Waves of falsehood, floods of dumbing —
Idiots in full command.
In this world, depraved and numbing,
Fools oppress with heavy hand.
Brave and honest, wise and grounded —
Even they feel crushed and small:
Evil grows, resistance’s founded —
Sanity’s about to fall.
World of morons, bought and hollow —
That’s the BEAST’s desired fate.
And it’s coming — look and swallow:
Redlines past a hundred rate.
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Madness Tachometer 2
1.
Fools in charge, the brave are drowned —
Evil spins the world around.
2.
Sanity’s a dying spark —
Lies advance, and all goes dark.
3.
Idiot rule, and truth is banned —
Madness tightens its command.
4.
The throttle's jammed, the end is near —
The beast now drives — no brakes, no fear.
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Roses and Storms
"How fresh, how pure the blooming rose..." —
What crap, when all the world’s in flame!
Just one more way the rot still grows:
To drown our minds in pinkish shame.
This rose-fed filth is war's foundation.
Your very soul — the target claimed.
Can’t see the Hell in decoration?
You’ll call the vile divinely named.
It’s total slavery — ***** your roses,
Your tears, your dreams — begin to see:
The storm, the dark — that’s where the truth discloses
The mass hypnosis of the beast’s decree.
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Two-Stroke Engine
Push and burn —
Let it roll!
Lies up front —
Then comes the toll.
First, deception.
Next — the ****:
Second stroke —
The genocide drill.
Mind erased,
Then soul goes black —
Hell’s own engine,
Lie-fed track.
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Two-Stroke Engine 2
1.
Lies ignite — then slaughter flies.
Hell runs smooth on silenced cries.
2.
Two strokes: lie, then execute —
Truth is strangled, mute and brute.
3.
Fuel the beast — deceive, destroy.
Mind and soul are not a toy.
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Two-Stroke Engine 3
1.
Two strokes: the veil, then soul’s collapse —
The void inhales through smoky traps.
2.
Lies spark the wheel, then silence falls —
The spirit fades in engine calls.
3.
Deceit ignites, then shadows churn —
The soul forgets the way to turn.
4.
Mind erased in mechanized breath —
The engine hums the hymn of death.
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Two-Stroke Engine 4
1.
Two strokes — and gone: the inner light.
The link is snapped, no truth in sight.
2.
Engine roars — the Source denied,
A soulless drift in poisoned tide.
3.
A flash of lies — then all goes mute:
Cut from the Root, we serve the brute.
4.
From Source to sludge — the fall is tight.
The soul is scorched in engine-blight.
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Two-Stroke Engine 5
I. Spark
They sold the lie as sacred flame —
We lit the dark, forgot our name.
II. Cut
A hiss, a hum — then silence bled.
The Root was severed. God was dead.
III. Drift
Unanchored minds in circuits spin,
No voice within, no breath, no kin.
IV. Hollow Core
The soul once burned with living truth —
Now runs on fumes, in deathless youth.
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New Fashion
Two forks now dangle from your cap —
To catch the noodles on the flap.
But if you’re sporting a tricorne,
Then bring three forks — stay well-forewarned!
They’re quite the trend — with lies a’pouring,
From “friends” who stab you while adoring,
Without them, fog clouds every glance —
No change ahead, no second chance.
Just lies and lies — in layers stacked,
A powder-dusting lie on crap.
A fork won't pierce the crust, in fact —
You’ll need a pitchfork. That’s the map.
The weight of nonsense breaks your back —
Then stab it deep with pointed tack!
And toss it all — the burden’s fake:
At root of all this BS — Snake.
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New Fashion 2
1.
Forks won't cut it? Get the spikes —
The age of fluff is ruled by tykes.
2.
Too much crap for just one fork —
Time to storm with pitch and torque.
3.
Truth’s too tough? Then stab the fluff —
At root: a lie, disguised as "stuff".
4.
Three forks hang — a fashion tale.
One for each new public fail.
