Słoń - Krwawy Aperitif

I am the voice of your contorted and deranged thoughts
Follow the bloody path leading to a forlorn loft
Where a blind monk is telling the future from human guts
And naked witches dance around a pile of burning bones

... I possesed the speaker
Spitting out verses full of hate and anger
You've had enough? Then better turn it off, son
I am the voice of people to whom normalcy is a coinstrant
Beat Squad brough the smell of summer, I bring the stench of rot
Murderous instinct, post amputation scars
Carrion feeders, nighcrawlers - productions not for everyone
Like a fetish for being suffocated with underwear pieces
I'm giving you a mix of Twistid and Rugged Man from K-Rino

Vultures circle above a stinking carcass
Weak will die, son, anyways ignore them
Coz I cut like a blind hairdresser with garden shears in his hand
Black smoke escapes through a crematorium's chimney
Every rhyme I spit out is a classic like Suspiria
And your pseudo rap is a soundtrack to the life of Miriam
My style's sick, I shit on those faggots from internet forums
The children of the net try to get the hang of the definition of horror core
Turn up the volume, welcome to the murderous carnival
Let the blood and bile of all the envious cripples gush out
Take a blunt glass shard in your hand and clench your teeth
Self harm is a painful experimentation
This is the village of the cursed, better not loiter around during the night
Coz here the value of human life is measured by the weight of the meat

Chorus:
This is the Bloody Aperitif, funeral tunes
No self procaimed prophet has ever dreamed of that
Welcome to the slaugherhouse, the world of lies and mould
This shit will get you addicted after the first try
Son, believe me, I add inspiration to the flame
The melody escapes from cut wrists like from a stave
Here every last drop will become a note
The firing squad will play just for you

It's a trip to a place where death will not be sudden
In the devil's laboratory, the blood drips into the bucket
A possessed priest is whipping himself with a cable
Arranging headless corpses into a pentagram
The rap I play is sick, I invite you for a walk around the swamp
2009, the civilisation has fallen
The light at the end of a tunnel has been extinguished by a waft of cold air
A stench of dead bodies drifts from vandalised tombs
I hit the temples like a war hammer, like a double sided axe
I push forward slicing my enemies like a fucking shogun
I pierce your skull through both of your ears with oriental blades
Watching as your brain leaks out of it mixed with your blood
Take some painkillers
I will molest the weak with a mic covered in studs
City's sewers, people are blind to the suffering of others
As if someone has sewn their eyes shut with a barbed wire
Don't drink from the poisoned river - is this country's reality
Police amstaff protects the politicians' lies
Here only a hadfull of people has gotten to know what happiness is
The rest is muffling their cries and biterness in their fists
Public executions, the pillory is a bane of the inquisition's existence
I've got this sick stylistics that makes your ears hurt
Collosus rap, I'm out of control just like Goro
I've got that LA panache of Del Toro
Fuck the shit those internet masses spew out
You dense? I'll repeat then - I ain't playing hackworks
Get ready for a start, make yourself comfortable in your casket
This is the foretaste of what Sick Tunes will bring you!

Chorus:
This is the Bloody Aperitif, funeral tunes
No self procaimed prophet has ever dreamed of that
Welcome to the slaugherhouse, the world of lies and mould
This shit will get you addicted after the first try
Son, believe me, I add inspiration to the flame
The melody escapes from cut wrists like from a stave
Here every last drop will become a note
The firing squad will play just for you