lyrics
GROTESQUE
Lies
You've got the blood on your hands
And got no right to bleed
Your innocence makes me laugh
I don't have what you need
You search for the solution
I know you'll never find
Your faith has left you
With an imitation of Christ
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
The spirit takes hold of your body
And you cry out
Thrown into convulsions
You're foaming at the mouth
Searching for something sacred
You look but all you find
Is just an imitation
Your God has left behind
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
Transcending the temporal realm
Thou shalt not bear witness
To those who call themselves poets
Or worship false idols
Never worship false idols
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
Grotesque, the lowest,
Common denominator
What else could she do
To open their eyes
The blind shall see
The dead shall hear
The dead shall rise
Rise
credits
from
The Shape Of Things To Come (EP),
released August 15, 2003
Lyrics & Vocals - Tairrie B
Guitar - Mick Murphy
Bass - Meghan Mattox
Drums - Yael
Produced & Mixed by Mick Murphy & Todd Osenbaugh
Recorded @ Deadzone Studios - Hollywood, Ca.
Mastered by Roger Lian @ Master Disc - NY
license
all rights reserved