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