Prophecy Is Gonna Rock Heretics.
Was It Memory Black-Out Or Was It Hopeful Visions Of Your Head
Relieving Your Shoulders Of Burden?
Prophecy Is Gonna Kill The Prophet
100 Tons Of Hellfire; Self-Conscious Prophecies Desire That It Kills You
That It Fills Your Vulgar Mouth With Reason
Our Lifeihood Relies On Your Reifenstahlic Confidence; Your Reifenstahlic Ignorance Of Guile
For Wrath It Kills You
For Spite It Kills You
I Hate The Taste Of Your Blood, Black As Pitch,
But I'd Hate It Even More To See My Skull Mounted Next To Some Pompous Grin,
Or That Mona Lisa Smile
Just One Thought And Your Filled With Vulgar Abilities,
It Comes Naturally But I'd Like To Steal The Best Parts For Me
When The Best Parts Come We Should Be Back To Back
It's Hard To Fear The Prophecies Of A Liar
(We've Seen Your Vulgar Head Before, Burning On A Stake In Astral Fire)
But That Doens't Stop Your Guile
(That Doesn't Stop A Thing)
We Should Be Back To Back Because It Can't Happen Again
(We've Seen Your Black Heart For The Last Time)
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