Cult

Cigarettes have killed millions. I wish I would have thought of that. What the f**k smells like tooth loss in here? We've got lamb on the door. Waiting for the angel. Walking through blood knee high. I wish I would have thought of that. What the f**k smells like bad priest in here? We've got blood on the door. God-war. Death-president. Let's get hopped up on horse tranquilizers and play with claw hammers. Maybe stop at the tendon and try to keep this screwdriver out of your neck. Hey kids, the jesus-reaper wears a cowboy hat. We would apologize... These plowshares have fashioned the perfect swords. I kneel with one eye on the clock. High up in our heaven they'll laugh and smoke cigars when natural selection renders this rock a vacant lot. Say we're sorry. If you hadn't sprayed our throats on the floor, Michael.