M.M. - Obsequey (The Death Of Art) | Текст песни

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• M.M.
• Obsequey (The Death Of Art)

A woman in the right speaker:

This is the Golden Age of Grotesque, be
prepared for what you may find. x

A man in the left speaker:

The hole we have to fuck her. x

Manson in the left speaker:

They taste tension because it is their life.
Chrome Сomplimental. 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 waves. 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
<reverof> 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.

Manson in the right speaker:

Let’s see what we will bring. We will HIDE. We
have grown just to die. Does it? Their
propaganda is not heavy. I have grown bored
with their best milk. Evolve. Contact them.
Complimental. Tell them to hide. Bored out of
this world. None will answer us. Girls. None is
more abnormal or unimportant than, like them. I
tried, I fucked them still. No more establishing.
Bored. Don’t accept them. About our life.
Chrome. Bite their bullet. There is fresh
something. But all I’m trying to do is about their
lifestyle is fucked. Without those people we grow
disgruntled. Propaganda has always worked.
They are very dull. I expected their lives. Girls.
There has to be something.