Dark Lotus - Call Upon Your Gods - text písně

[Violent J:]
I think it's funny how...the toughest criminals and thugs and whatever...
when they're on their death bed...
you know like the day before they fry in the electric chair...
all of a sudden they want to get religious.
I heard that 9 out of 10 inmates on death row are all ultra religious.
That's because they know that they're about to die.
That they are about to meet whatever's after death.
It's funny... nobody wants to turn to god till it's to late.
Till it's time for you to fuckin' die

[Violent J:]
Agony
Pain
Suffering
Bang Bang
Chains
Devices
Torture things
Is this hell?
Might as well be
It's what's next and shit
I live life filthy
Sexed every bitch in the gutter
Then we rob her motha
Find a shutta
And shoot fo or fo each other
I blame it all on the people around me
It's because of them that god never found me
Right?? (wrong)

[Blaze Ya Dead Homie:]
Before I hit the ground
When I got three in the chest
I should've guessed my time was up
Should've worn the fucking vest
But I wasn't thinking straight
Caught up in the thug life
Was the king on the streets
Now I'm asking god to take my life
To the pearly gates
So I can rest peacefully
But he wasn't helping me
Why has he forsaken me?
To eternity in hell
Left to rot in the grave
And if it asn't for the Lotus
I'd still be there today

[Chorus:]
Call upon your gods
Beg for them to help you
Call upon your gods
Religion has left you
Got a final hour
Cross the final line
Life will end
But there is no end to time
Call upon your gods
Beg for them to help you
Call upon your gods
Religion has left you
Got a final hour
Cross the final line
Life will end
But there is no end to time

[Shaggy 2 Dope:]
Skin Seperates from bone
Seperates from bone
One hot flash of metal
Now your on this earth alone
Laying face down in your own blood
With nowhere to turn
Everything from our fingertips to toes burn
Heat sets skin deep
Open up your eyes
The cold clutch of deaths hand
He could care less about your life
As Hell's Chariots come to carry you away
you finaly realize
It's to late to pray

[Monoxide Child:]
Help me out
I can't understand the way you think
Or what you're talking about
I see you siting perfect circles
With deciples of Satan
I got my shotgun cocked
Newspapers and revelations
Every bullet is a story
They keep it glorified
The media's the target
And now they gots to die
Son of Sam
Sam os son
Buck you with my shotgun
Wicked work will be done
Fuck it catch a hot one

Přidal: Ondra dne 15. 10. 2007 v 17:54.
Počet zobrazení: 115 (0).

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