Obsequey (The Death Of Art)

They taste tension because it is their life, chrome complemental
Stop looking for ourselves, bored towards most of it
We have grown to complain, the hole we have to fuck her

I'm still captive, hide in the distortion, it's a shame I'm still expected to wave
Though we have no disgruntled, we are lower girls, man, girls, good evening
Nothing is more propaganda than the world, tired of them stabbing, I am a
Forever but still I am a door to all of the worst who are jittery
Crazy people pretend me to not give a fuck
And we are made of a dry contact, without the people we aren't alive
We are cows scraping up our genitals, we saved our best milk
Propaganda is not done, break down me, then the faces will evolve
Let's just see the only child, the bored are to be of devoured, but not you