Hypertension? Diabetes? I Had It All!

Good Evening Friends,

Today is Friday the 13th, and it can only mean one thing, and no its not time to run around killing kids in a variety of gruesome ways, but rather, it is time I stop fucking around and post some real heavy hitting jams that will do all of that work for me. There is nothing more metal than enlisting some Banshee screams and low death growls to do all the dirty work. And because I am going out for a drink, and don't have time for that killing bull shit no mo'. I know what your saying, I gave up so soon, with only one more day of these stupid rants about metal music and morbid fantasies that were not fact checked and/or do not even make any fucking sense. But I need a beer, or 50. How else will the blond in yesterday's post look good enough to sleep with?

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 11- Number Twelve Looks Like You- Blue Dress

Dragged to the burial where witches flew overhead
Roses drip black, and children weep in awe at their mother's side
And tissues break... shows your ample wit...
To get back at your bastards lust.
Razor proof veil and an odorless scarf bring the day to rust.
Blue dress at a black grave
Razor proof veil and an odorless scarf bring the day rust.

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 12- The Red Chord- Dreaming in Dog Years

Searching for a mode and for a method.
What's he thinking and what the fuck is he saying?
And does it matter anyway? "Never again..."
I begin to think,
As the liquid seeps in and the agony escapes my lungs.
The simple concept of trust.
You can't take back some mistakes.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
And while I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Searching for mode or motivation... what was I thinking?
Dreaming in dog years.
And though I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Be it seven seconds or seven years,
It doesn't matter when you're dreaming in dog years.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ,
It was such a pity to throw what we had away
Dreaming. Now, I'm not afraid to die.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ, what a pity.
You threw it all away. Dog years.
Now I'm not afraid to die.
There's nothing left. Dreaming.
Splitting headaches and random thoughts...what matters anyways?
Hypertension? Diabetes? I had it all, now I can't feel my legs.
I heard the metal clank, and Guy just sold out good ole' Bud.
And it's not gonna be alright.
And it's not going to be "ok."

No worries, it will probably be alright and then ok. No one drinks Bud anymore.

Fuck Heineken!, PABST BLUE RIBBON!!!

Cheers,

kaw