* send corrections to the typist



The press, runs the tape records the bloody mess

documentations of the human race, can study death

they'll reach in through your TV speaker

they'll feature

a creature that'll beat ya to death, if he can meet ya

your executed when your electrocuted

who's responsible for a homeless man thats dead

and smells putrid

we murdered your natural flesh after bein thrown in a river

you'll be frozen forever into a statue of death

a grasshopper in the lab dead

stabbed in the head

knives are like the hands of a crab

jabbin your flab till you wrapped them and bled

throw you off a building

killin off your children

drillin' holes in your corpse till your spillin' the colours of a million

I'll split your brains

I'll slit your vains

the impact of a bat cracked across your back

is like gettin hit by a train

I'll stick a fang in your blood bank

then strangle

my shangle bangle

you like the triangle

piece of an angle

I think my shit's too brutal for most

I might be the only one capable digesting the dose

you won't survive a screw driver driven inside your throat

choke on blood and saliva another kaniver croaks



[CHORUS]

It's poetry in the streets of the big apple

and a vitality found in few other places

but look beneath the surface of the city

and you shall uncover a steamin sesspool of human emotion



gun sour, a planet, where nightmares

that become reality

witness the brutality

its poetry in the streets of the big apple

you get tackled

and grappled to the floor, white slaved up and shackled



I spit on your grave, piss in your mouth, and shit on your face

grind yo into slop meat and serve you to your friends

we bringin bad taste

another brutal shootin rampage

turnin humans to ashtrays

doobies to crack slaves

and boobies that lactate

squirtin mad milk, I never have guilt

I have krills, I'll have you fags killed

in front of your mom and dads grill

splatterin both of them

with pieces of your explodin head

brain fragments stainin' clothing red

I make you love the pain, it hurts

we make music for drug addicts, pieces of shit, that love the dirt

its psychological

I'm like havin a rifle shot at you

we not the type that smile at you

we the type that bite at you

slit your throat with the broken bottle

pieces of jagged glass stabbin' you through your fuckin eyeballs

have you swallowin cyanide screamin die whores

kill your physical first, next your minds lost

leave you in the funeral home you make a fine corpse

got you splattered across the walls with my nine tongs

murder you execution style like a crime boss

travel through time and terminate you like a cyborg

my mentallity's grind core



[Chorus]



Rescue crews show care for the living they'll stick with 'em

But once death is plain paramedics show disregard for the victim

You command respect when you're alive

But once you die you're reduced to bloody nuscence a gruesome sight to the eye

Driving a taxi is a dangerous career

You might pick up the grim reaper the passenger all taxi drivers fear

A robber might put a gun to your ear

And end your life with a twist of a finger it happens all year

You're going into respiratory arrest

Firemen are pumping your chest in hope of restoring your breath

No one is immune to dying, you disagree

Your lying to yourself in time everything living is history