A Collision of Apparitions ft. Devilish

A monolithic messiah emitting cryptic linguistics

Depicting “victimless” instances of visceral viciousness      

Embodied the essence of obsession for poetic perfection

Unnerving recollections of prior malevolence are penned as evidence

Juice the noose, for those with no allegiance

Witnesses a no-show... Who filed the grievance?

Every memory and encumbrance summoned by the jury emerges a disturbing
verbal demon

Self-purported reporters etch-a-sketch their disorders to resemble every patron of your pre-assembled legion

The poor tend to portend that they’re floating through life

Barely hanging off the port end of a boat called Strife

The prosperous offer an economy-grade hypothesis while chartering the seas of Distortion

The masses tote their problems through a narcissistic “mine” field, waiting to be blown out of proportion.

A mythical bust, if you must...

Lead foot society thriving on propriety...

Our offering to our offspring was the gift of notoriety

Pushing boys toward pushing poison, girls toward marrying into high class society

Every child raised and hazed into grazing for the glaze and ignoring the nutrition

While the leaders cry “feuer frei” and set our seed ablaze before they reached fruition

Uncle Sam rebuked pre-mature ideas of revolution. His resolution? To dishevel his sons

He's aborted and contorted the assorted sordid portions of veracity; revenge is a Develish one.

Bring forth the fruits... their heads will suffice

“Don’t tread on me” deemed treachery; it doesn’t fit your guise

A silver spoon... for the feed of greed...

Charging the plunger toward the hunger at breakneck speed

Oooh how useful its device... The antichrist... is merely "just a man?"

Being taught from a book lacking meter or hook and with many a section banned

The tongue screams taste... scorched... so follow your nose, to the one who knows.

Your olfactory senses have been tweaked; the third dimensions bleak as your meticulous memory slows

Our schools are pell-mell, the deficit dwells! Who could be the thief?

How sweet the smell invited by hell, your commander in Chief? How brief...