Lovin the meatgrinder
Blowin a hole in your life
Stealing away the pies
The Cherry Cherry pies of your life
Ending it all in one blast of an eggy goo
Egos for breakfast, Breakfast for Lunch
Lunch to eat your soul, slowly eating
Until your filled with happy warmness
Look at the pretty clown, it's happy
Or...is it?
Do you cry like the clown
Or does the clown cry like a face
wake
stand face of death to sell it for the mafia
The mafia wwill say, "NO!" and the Atavians will rise again
And that's something you don't want to misplace with the vegetables

-Golgoth, the Weird.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Glacian, in the year 296 AF.