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Terminal Man

by Terminal Man

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1.
No Tan Lines 02:36
As far as tired eyes can see the magnitude of loss A sick obsession readily appears as sickened blood lust Bodies jamming up the lawn, and fire burning bright Magnificent blackness covers all. The endless stream of bright lights All hail your dead leader. All vow to mournfully worship the dead. Time captured in pictures. Deceptive, and constantly pushing the end all, be all of existence. Grab my arm. Other arm. Feel my power. Yeah, I feel that. Rot in your opinion. Reside to mournfully worship the dead. Time captured in pictures, deceptive and constantly pushing the end all be all of existence. Bodies jamming up the lawn and fire burning bright. All vow to mournfully worship the dead.
2.
Acid Body 03:27
Only open minds get inside of me. We comfortably neglect our every day. Fortunately, we have things to see. I feel as though my brain is being picked at. What a fucking epiphany. I kind of like to drop it, as is, once a year. All we wanted: to chew it off and never turn it out. All for intrigue and the dream. Only open minds get inside of me. Only open minds will live. I kindly bow out, shed the wrong. In a circular trio, terror is very real. Shadows all around, deeming serious wrong. Rest or sleep, tearing our minds from the weight. All of your children have claws. Oh you’re alone, Oh you’re alone and you’re wrong. No witch’s blood. Sorry, but all of it’s gone. All of your kids are for sale. Bury me alone so it unfolds once again. Fucking worthless lazy acid body. A period of “I don’t wanna”. Bleed alive, my life is just a dream. I’ve found a state of mind that’s better: braindeath.
3.
Fire Me 05:08
Shattered glass eyes thrown against the panels of the bitter dying vines. Electronic portraits of deeds, done to myself for free. My family disgusted by me, the only next step is to breed. When shotguns don’t fit in my mouth, and knives don’t cut veins very well, And poisoning doesn’t take hold, maybe I’m simply too old. When in doubt, try to take more chances on your way out, Done to myself to for free, a family of disgust, by me. The only next step is to bleed. Shotgun a drink from my mouth. Wretched will fit very well. Turn it on, I want my death televised. Please don’t preserve this body. Please don’t bury this man. Just immediately burn this carcass And mix the ashes in the sand. Shotguns don’t fit in my mouth. Knives don’t cut veins very well. Poisoning doesn’t take hold. Maybe I’m simply too old.
4.
The Grid 04:58
Detract from the train. turned it down. Full on, all out turn-on. Delerium shadowing the mind Tears another hole. Telling no one. Not for now. What for? Giant aftermath. Write another word down. Write another dream, but know who we are. Know where we are. Lay low. They bought it with a picture, so sacred, to cope with a dead-end job. I know they really want this, and for this, they should have come forth and tried. A weak body paints a picture, thrown so coldly in the end of mine. We are the ones to bank off, or delude, our prime. A pistol promise. A live gun. And I’ll see you, hot ammo. All the other ones will tell the truth, sucking it down on a drunken train. Set in the land of no sun or rain. Evil solo. A gun wouldn’t point out the truth. Shoot this lowlife, full gun.
5.
Living for the moment for a moment I am alive. Willingness and comfort politicians, comfort all the time. Their loss. Their boss is upset. Eagle-eyed dynamo, the undying power of the owner. The song for everyone,anyone. Tell them. All your ignorance, look how livid you are. Got a loss, got to hear what they’ve won. Shut up, guy. Get out of here with that lie. So long. We got it all on my own. We don’t hear any noise. Fourteen years of cyan. I’ll adjourn when we move on. Shouldn’t leave me. I want in. You got me out of line. Sharpen a knife for culture. We shut in in, but lower old guns. I shut it down when I bury the tell-all: my liar.
6.
Skin Suit 03:44
It’s high-time we move it. Remove it. All together now. We sew it onto ourselves. Now we look right. The sores don’t burn too much, and it’s quite clean For being so unsanitary. A wet dream. Glorious you, worn by me. The party’s over here. Everyone will cheer, and say I’m beautiful as they cheer. Never ever will anyone say I’m pitiful and spout fear. Always chose the older ones. Always testing mine. Carry on, carry on. Positive you know where we are? Dry it out. We don’t need more now. The lonely one. All I’ve conqued, I have filled within. I’ll pour it down your throat. I’ll pour it down your throat. I’ll pour it down your throat. I’ll pour it down your throat. Oh, Avalon, I buried Ellen. Don’t fear your life, sweetheart. She doesn’t need those clothes. I g-g-got my better wife. The saline is still warm inside her skin suit.

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released October 31, 2012

Recorded and produced by Hitterbox Studios. (www.soundcloud.com/hitterbox)

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Terminal Man Chicago, Illinois

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