this doctrine is not an optional doctrine

Optional Doctrine

And she dropped down, laying half-crippled at the bottom of the barrel, Wings momentarily clipped, vision skewed through the fog of clutter. Today I'll be the hero. I'll push aside hygiene for you, just to feel the stale warmth of your plasticity on my fingertips again; to hold tight and clench tighter to the unforgiving beat of your siren song. I promise you'll make your connection once more, able to latch firm to the six decayed pages of a long-feared novel of hymns. I'll save you.

Through the dust and congealing semen to my princess at the speed of vibrant pink.

Pinkspeed

Slithering the way you love to do, you're the serpent introducing me to sin. Spell my name in scales; nurture me neurotoxically. Put an ending to that which ails.
Blinded by dust when I crawl on my belly, but when I eat from you, my eyes are open.

Ouroboros Erotica

One last song and then whatever the fuck ever.

End Of The Fucking World Party

How cute, the way you try to scream with your mouth full - poisonous mushrooms lodged in your windpipe (the greatest display of control tripping.)
Tonight I left you a brand new pair of dimples, and your smile was never more photogenic. Your smile was nevermore.
Princess Puparia drooling like a starving dog - quit begging and finish your angel dust like a good little whipping girl.

Trachea

Right now, I want to rub the pretty colors off of the wings of every butterfly and finger-paint a portrait of violence.
Trigger a volcanic eruption to transform the Great Basin into America's ashtray. Just another scripted near-life experience.
I am Mike's irrational mistrust of man.
This could be the end of something great.

Recycle Your Animals

I don't know why the fuck "me" is the at the end, because you're only making an ass out of you. A whole spectrum of fucking color to choose from - get your answer from spiritual choice instead. This is for you, America sleazebag; pseudo-cultured television expert; unresearched seeker of ease. Truth is on its fucking knees.
How many robots does it take to lead the troops astray?Automatically assuming the rest of the world is at bay.

Prophile/Cuntspiracy

Tomorrow is the first day of my life. Not the rest, but the whole performance. The hold-your-breath competition at the brick slaughterhouse. Every fuck I never gave is going into this one, and the ghost on my shoulders is in for a bumpy fucking ride.
Buckle up, buttercup.

The Apnea Wars

A previously unreleased track unearthed by Michael to see the cold light of day.

lyrics;
A wall of death betwixt those limbs, closing around me amidst the chaos. Swirling; dizzying; connected to the jesters. When everyone else is leaving the venue, I'm passed out in the wrong stall, visions of sugar skulls dancing with my migraine.
You piece of shit, you're adorable.

Sycamore Twins


J. Quinn

Rayne Purcell

East

Jake N.R.

Mulch

Popular tracks