paroles de chanson Cupiditas - Vore Complex
Today
I
shattered
my
life
into
a
basic
state
I
see
all
the
tortured
pieces
that
I've
worked
to
create
The
air
still
slithers
round
my
hate
And
it
reeks
of
my
plague
And
I
stop
And
I
think
of
the
games
I
once
played
But
they're
gone
Turned
to
ash
Buried
under
the
dust
With
a
billion
rotting
dreams
and
inescapable
rust
And
I'm
dancing
barefoot
on
broken
glass
There
are
26
shards
And
I
don't
know
which
one
to
trust
Like
a
spring
lamb
standing
in
an
August
queue
I'm
dirty
Drunk
on
damage
And
I
don't
know
what
to
do
The
consciousness
of
conscience
blocks
the
naïve
blues
Like
a
spring
lamb
in
August
Now
it's
my
turn
too
They're
all
staring
from
my
memories
with
happy
little
eyes
Holding
happy
little
hands
And
I
cannot
deny
That
I'm
reminded
of
lovers
in
a
cardboard
embrace
And
in
those
sugar
paper
promises
I
recognise
my
face
Now
their
emaciated
husks
howl
out
against
each
burning
lie
And
the
world
has
shrivelled
up
And
there
is
blood
against
the
sky
And
our
heads
are
armed
with
ashes
And
their
stains
strangle
down
Into
the
acid
hearts
in
which
we
thrash
till
we
drown
Like
a
spring
lamb
standing
in
an
August
queue
I'm
dirty
Drunk
on
damage
And
I
don't
know
what
to
do
The
consciousness
of
conscience
blocks
the
naïve
blues
Like
a
spring
lamb
in
August
Now
it's
my
turn
too
Imagination
melts
in
my
quicklime
brain
These
barbed
words
sting
me
But
I
shaped
myself
in
pain
Let
these
parasites
gnaw
on
my
withering
veins
Let
them
savage
my
skin
Let
my
sanity
drain
But
that
fucking
smile
is
still
stitched
onto
my
face
Like
the
whispers
in
my
head
so
firmly
stapled
into
place
Like
the
endless
small
change
in
the
gutter
outside
Where
I
gutted
my
integrity
And
tore
off
all
my
pride
So
I
pick
all
the
pieces
back
up
off
the
rancid
floor
They
lacerate
my
fingers
Yet
I'm
twitching
for
more
And
I
know
in
the
dark
that
I've
felt
this
way
before
But
then
I
never
know
exactly
what
is
real
anymore
Like
a
spring
lamb
standing
in
an
August
queue
I'm
dirty
Drunk
on
damage
And
I
don't
know
what
to
do
The
consciousness
of
conscience
blocks
the
naïve
blues
Like
a
spring
lamb
in
August
Now
it's
my
turn
too
Like
a
spring
lamb
standing
in
an
August
queue
I'm
so
dirty
Drunk
on
damage
And
there's
nothing
left
to
do
A
shadow
of
an
echo
fucked
those
naïve
blues
Like
a
spring
lamb
to
the
slaughter
Now
it's
my
turn
too
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