Battle Axe Experiment (feat. Evidence)

Ah, this shit doesn't even sound human anymore
It's time to kill

Rough terrain, insane in my domain
Sadomasochism, wax whips and chains
There's no stopping the soon to be popular
Dive deep snorkeling, shark fins circling
You can't step to the fearsome ferocious
Beast makes you nauseous, ha, please be cautious
Murderous mind state, drown in a blood bath
First comes the batterram, strike with the battle axe
Can't fill my appetite, viking decapitate
Turntable terrorist cuts at a rapper rate
Come from the depths of the underworld
Silver fire reigns supreme on the surface
You ride the spirit horse, dreamcatcher captures
Take attack posture, structure to stature
I'm staring at ya, black tarantula
Swollen psychopath, contract canceller

Spinal cord curvature cracks over my overture
Amateurs couldn't compete my cop massacre
Haven't you ever slept in the hangman's quarters?
Lay down on a leigh, sharp chainsaws he spray
Dazed as you reach for the handle on the door
Amazed at the pattern I've engraved on the floor
Hard skills and hand saws, kill saws and metal jaws
Vertebrate and algebraic against all odds
No gods to deliver, rafts on blood rivers
Rats and black wizards, hatchet attack prisoners
Mental complex, yell spells and vex texts
Deliverance of the next dragon's breath and burnt flesh

Calm surface, serpent sleeps leviathan
Angels' assistance under Satan's surveillance
Vitalizer psycho-acoustic equalizer
Stars explode, planet Europa gets blown
To oblivion, belt of Orion, what rock you living on?
Lovecraft Necronomicon, Dr. Faust to Mephisto
Dirty deeds with no leads
Murky water runs red as the Holy Father bleeds

You speed towards the outline of the treeline in question
The forest area where four people have gone missing
Apparitions cloud your visions, fang marks and incisions
Uncontrolled muscle contortions, sacrificial fetal positions
It runs through your mind that you'd live to see the sun
Swore that you'd be the one, with silver bullets in your gun
Now the tables have shifted, table of the bewitched
The altar of the altered, Aleister Crowley author
Much harsher than the jogger that they found in the marsh
But come the gateway through which the army of darkness will march
A still heart pumps no liquid on a pedestal of marble
No medical marvel will let you see tomorrow