Syndrome Shock



no lyrics



Toxic Megapenis



in a bedroom long ago

with slipknot on the stereo

i slipped dimensions on my dell

off-white gateway into hell

in a world that god's forgotten

i discovered something rotten


there's

mutilated dicks and dead body pics

and a crucifix in the slit

of a whore

blood and guts and elephant nuts

and more gross sluts

than the doo doo store


DOO DOO STORE, the DOO DOO STORE

(dildos and more at the doo doo store)


celebrity wrecks and severed necks

and surprise goatse.cx to corrupt

the soul

monthly fucks, and the shits out of luck

they all got sucked

into a red hole


i wanna be in the same club

as the man with a ring

or the girl in a tub

i'm cultivating an infection

witness my low-rez erection


prostitute spit and hobo shit

into my dick-slit

put the needle in

a pencil-stub to a super-chub

with wiggling grubs

underneath the foreskin


i've got something for the records

send your finest pecker-checkers

catalog this new disease

see what hangs between my knees


the glimpse you ketch, it'll make you retch

the flesh will stretch

till i can't wear pants

it rapidly swells like a pus-filled bell

it looks like hell

and it smells like france


toxic megapenis

historians take note

this monumental penile bloat

vomit's rising in your throat

toxic megapenis

bursting at the seams

the culmination of my dream

squeeze me for some curdled cream



Half-Chub Time Machine



(verse 1)


history is subject to improvement

particles flow like a loose bowel movement

back to the earliest days of the net

when we hadn't fucked the whole thing up quite yet

there were cybersex criminals lurking in the chatroom

lure you to a private convo in a public bathroom

go to a meat-up with your online friend

and a milk carton's the only place you're seen again

now web-surfing's lost all sense of adventure

my race-baiting facebook posts are all censored

the future was fucked and what's current is crap

we were saved by the timescape navigator app


(chorus)


i wanna go back

cuz i'm a throwback

i wanna feed mr. t my ballsack

getting dumber with every year

deformed and queer and i hate it here

well, can we fix it

just a little bit

with technology to backwards-transmit?

ride the data stream in reverse

ass-first, and we'll try not to make it worse


(verse 2)


this timeline can be revised if it's done right

columbine reimagined as a gay porn site

web belt strap-ons for tactical kink

pulsating pipe-bombs, trenchcoat twinks

send the address to the rebel doomer

show him a picture of the future rumors

he gets pissed off cuz he ain't no fag

but the next day, he throws away his terrorist bag

what other tragedy might we avert

with a well-placed mpeg pussy squirt?

well i wouldn't stop 9/11 if i could

because the patriotic aftermath made me feel good



Song of the Cybershaman



(verse 1)


in a shotgun suicide t-shirt

waiting in the line for the boy's room

there to make pee squirt

darkstream from an unwashed dingus

graphite smeared

on the dirty fingers

handwritten instructions

folded-up notebook paper

spell of destruction

this is only a sample

like the girth of his choad

his wisdom is ample


(chorus)


forbidden knowledge

unlimited access

written in crimson

suspended in blackness

incantations

to summon demons

a pair of JNCOs

encrusted with semen

digital hatred

online sadists

dysfunktional dirtbags

and auto-fellatists

the era of novel distractions

has ended

and it's a strange hell

into which we've descended


(verse 2)


like a backpack-mummified hotdog

i'm rock-hard as i go

through my msn chatlog

a dead world in a textfile

remnant of the people i've known

who disappeared like reptile

twenty-year-old conversations

forgotten like last night's

masturbation

but was anything said

that justifies the space this shit

occupies in my head?


(verse 3)


SHIT! FEAST! with goblets of piss

fudgestained lips give

a chocolate kiss

see the vaginal geyser

beastial barnyard sluts

and a dehymenizer

he showed me all that i've listed

obscure genres of porn

i did not know existed

could you make me a burned cd

of down syndrome-

fetish pornography?



HAIRY PUSSY in 3-D



(chorus)


V R M L

get on-line and go to hell


(verse 1)


we need

special volunteers

for the new frontier

a simulated world of cubes and spheres

put the headset on and let's get started

pierce brosnan'll cure you

of bein' retarded


(verse 2)


you can

soar through the void

like an asteroid

crash into planet poon and you're overjoyed

sluts as far as the eye can see

made of pure abstract

geometry


(verse 3)


she had

perfect cone tits

spherical hips

cherry-red inflatable donut lips

bush like a tangle of copper wire

you flew too close

now your head's on fire


(verse 4)


you burn

like a flare

in your gaming chair

alarms going off but you just don't care

paradise is in your eyes

bloody shit is

running down your thighs



God's Grampaw



listen up scum

haven't you heard

the father's father's father has the final fucking word

back at the beginning

right from the start

god's dad's daddy put the seeds in your heart

all that you reap

the pappy hath sown

they're 23 seeds from which everything is grown

even ze weed

even your base

even love guns in a get-hard case

every piece of road trash

every piece of art

even split dickslit, even blood fart

even remote

electronically controlled

around corner

deadly touch tarantulas

even f. leach

even yail bloor

even rubber sluts at the doo doo store

everything grows from the 23 seeds

i'm a special little man with special little needs


his word is law

his dog is raw

he's never known the touch of a woman

but he's not the gay grampaw


he's not the gay grampaw (repeated)

my brain's like a plate of baked beans and coleslaw



Christ Consuming the Unborn



(whispered intro)


join us on the picket line

the slogan painted on the sign is

PRO-DEATH


(verse 1)


only one result

will please us

abort your babies

feed them to jesus

grown on

the tree of life

until they're sucked out

from your wife

plucked away from an

umbilical branch

before he devours them

he dips them in ranch

pac-man mouth

and magic hands

how many licks

to the pineal gland?


(chorus)


from the womb, untimely torn

christ consuming the unborn

now the basement walls adorn

christ consuming the unborn


protesters pelt her with scorn

she walks alone, her face forlorn

cheer up darlin', don't you mourn

the waiting room has

CANDY CORN


(whispered interlude)


although she's in the bedroom sleeping

at the desk, this little creepling's

smearing filth between the lines

the message written on the sign is

PRO-DEATH


(verse 2)


geocity

generation

ms-paint

gif animation

s & m

ballerina

what the fuck

does that even mean-ah?

oh-one memory

retrieval

good suggestions

from x-evil

here's one word

of advice for you, son:

KILL YOUR PARENTS

WITH A HANDGUN


(outro)


before being god, he was in porn

christ consuming the unborn

each day on set, his balls were shorn

christ consuming the unborn


the only clothes he'd ever worn

a cock-ring and a crown of thorns

he could cure your diabetus

but he'd rather

EAT THIS FETUS



Santa Snow Suicide



(verse 1)


x-mas was gray

in the weatherman's plan

(un)lucky for you

they make snow in a can

you frosted the wreath

dusted the tree

you wanna give the little ones

something to see

you gave yourself

a big white beard

ho ho ho'd

while the kiddies cheered

it itches a little

but you never imagined

the damage

you've done to your dna

with a festive holiday

aerosol spray


(chorus)


CANCER for CHRISTMAS

CANCER for CHRISTMAS

get CANCER for CHRISTMAS

and it MAKES YOU DIE


(verse 2)


what began as a rash

would soon start to bleed

your cells turned against you

with blitzen-like speed

dissolving in sores

that ooze green and red

a yule ornament

in a hospital bed

you think of your life

and you try to be glad

of the people you knew

and the times that you had

but the cheerful memories

just seem pathetic

synthetic

fibers absorbed in your skin

like morgellon's in reverse

and it HURTS


(verse 3)


the hospice room

is strung with lights

your future doesn't look so bright

you might

find the rest of your life unpleasant

til the coroner opens your corpse

like a present


(happy elf song outro)


hang the uterus from the tree

christmas histerectomy

deck the halls

and smear the walls

with ladyparts today