Текст песни Meat Maker - Spitfire
The
dull
thud
of
packing
meat.
It's
my
bare
fist
beating
meat.
I'm
a
meat
eater
and
meat
is
me.
I'm
a
meat
eater
bearing
recoiled
red
teeth.
With
veneer
forget-me-knots.
I'll
always
be
a
part
of
you.
With
born
again
birth
rite.
Our
baptismal
names
we
lose.
A
soul's
exit
from
a
food
source
is
quick,
painless,
and
without
force.
I'll
pick
up
the
scent;
i'll
ride
the
rail.
And
it's
easy
hunting
along
blood
trail.
It
skinned
my
life.
It
saved
my
hide.
It
drained
my
fluids.
And
carved
out
my
insides
Альбом
Cult Fiction
1 Crossed
2 Mother Earth In Labour
3 Track Marxist
4 Pro-Life
5 Meth Monster
6 Meat Maker
7 In Vitro
Внимание! Не стесняйтесь оставлять отзывы.