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lirik lagu circle of tyrants – theatre of creeps

[intro: ill bill]
circle of tyrants
circle of tyrants
attack you like the dawn of the dead

[verse 1: ill bill]
i sent you all to satan
sent you to the devil, decapitated
splattered, degraded
rather amazing matters of hatred
manifestation
the cannibal data related to random standards in cases
f-ckin’ f-ggots stabbed in they faces
buckets of acid
hitchhike with truckers in traffic
i’m stuck on a path where the outcome is nothing but tragic
my outward appearance is nothing but average
inside of my brain structrure the primary function is madness
torture these traitors
put their blow torches to faces
corpses in my bas-m-nt
torsoes are my favorite
autopsy’s invigorating
k!lling you is refreshling and liberating
playing with the dead is extensively t-tilating
humans are extremely expensive but really tasty
sell you on the black market in pieces to anybody who pays me
limited quant-ty
culinary sodomy
unique cuisine, delicacy
the ultimate equality

[verse 2: necro]
i’m ogrish
as vulgar as you can get
cut out your v-lv-
my cult of the dead
eats from your skull
pulverize like a vulture’s molars
my goal is dicing up cindy margolis
and placing her flesh on slices and servin’ you hemoglobinisis
its priceless
i’m savage, artistic like the vampire of paris
s-d-stic
start a campfire
reminisce of m-ssacres lifted
blast through a pillow
i’m a sick b-st-rd like andre chikatilo
slay the padre
watch the silhouette of a k!ller glow
dusted like repka’s artwork
like carc-ss’ “heartwork”
like an aardvark searchin’ through organs like carparts rockin’ a cardhardt
ritual sacrifice is human appetizers
i capitilize on this cannibalism violence advertis-m-nts
my cypher of tyrants are trifer than pirates
like lifers that k!lled wifey with knives
a violent viking’s in ice age
smacking satan
invading your crib like patrick bateman
with a hatchet waiting making a theatric statement

[verse 3: goretex]
they call me fondlecorpse
cater for every occasion
home invasion
cavin’ in brains
that’s what i call entertainment
anachronistic
wit’ two biscuits that clip through your discus
the gore grinder
cause i’m down to the last 6 on my hit-list
i’m a sick kid
pieces of skull and blood on my ticksis
too much brown acid
used to be in love with the business of k!llings
st-tching the scalp of another innocent victim
buried face down
you’re similar to a f-ggot who takes it in him
basically a waste of skin
i’ve returned and sent him a telegram
a body count with two legs
shattered next to the hexagram
my handy cammin’
i make like squeaky and stab it
my circle fam is supreme bandits
murdered like speed handlers
dirt on the canvas
torso f-ck shorter than danzig
saw off your legs and walk on your hands like you was dancin’
march of the pigs
newest shipments, cartons of wigs
the k!ller’s smile
you know the symptoms when the coughing begins

[verse 4: mr. hyde]
the prince of evil erupts
cut you c-nts into cutlets
you f-ckin’ f-ggot punks
a bunch of sl-ts that’ll suck d-ck
we bust clips at cops
and trust kids with glocks
we’ll thrust in the ox of p-ss, drips and drops
rockin’ bl–dy bone chains and veins
my cult’s strange
known to indulge in pain
crack skulls, expose brains
while god’s forsaken me there’s carc-ss cooking in my bakery
scr-ping off your skin and string it up my wall as drapery
dramatically battering you
emphatically splattering you
sporadically ravaging like a scavanger do
sharpen claws
ripped and tore your sh-t
you’re dead and sure to twitch, b-tch
your blood and p-ss is pouring out of every orifice
corpse grisly and grim
i use my scissors to trim
the blue corset from the host
as i efficiently skin
spin the record around
i chop your ventricles down
you’ll see my tentacles found you
now you enter the ground

[outro: ill bill]
circle of tyrants
circle of tyrants
attack you like the dawn of the dead

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