F..k Your Dead Heart

Machinemade God

Disease ridden, cobwebs reside in your head.
Yet you remain walkin on this earth (Deceiving and demanding the best).
A manifestation of agony gathers around your name.
And I swear to god, I would murder you, if I knew how.
Your name appearance, I searched for it among those tombstones... 

But at the sight of you I fled (Away from you darkened silhoutte).
A plot to tear down the world, distrust and disbelief coincide until it is proven (otherwise).
The consolation prize is a dagger and a knife, 
Handed to you on a silver plate with step by step instructions, 
Directing them into your chest.

FUCK YOUR DEAD HEART!