pearly gates When Jehovas Hordes are Slaughtered When Disciples Twelve are Dead When Beliefs of Easter lands are Raped and Raped again When the Whore of Babylon Rides When Pity
tarts sit dumbly by Watching their fortunes rise and fall In the neatly pressed pin-striped trousers of the City. Debutante whores in rich men's castles
Head the aristocratic state of the Eighteenth century had reached an advanced form decomposition enfeebled and effete inarticulateness Pilasters niches multicoloured tiles lord whore
people die whore mother natures disgrace i'll be here burning as always through their fear they will not hurt us no i dont care if your citys fall take your pity
murdered street kids life (But they're children!) They're garbage on the streets (Oh the children!) They're beggars, whores and theives (Oh pity the children!) Cry pity
everywhere I see The black and blue uniforms, Police and Priests And I wonder do you wonder while you're sleeping with your whore? Sharing beds with
on a pivotal stretch Like a clockwork Christ Bears sore stigmata, bored And as I threw Job, I drove Myself to a martyred wretch To see if I drew pity
eighteen But, I remember you And I will relate to you How our histories interweave At the time you were A rake and a roustabout Spending all your money On the whores
infantile wound and regain strength Free your spirit from those who lead in praise Recollect the anger and the hates For not shall your morals dissolve in pity
savour That's when they finally put you in the ground I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down When England was the whore of the world Margaret
S-Class I'm riding on a giraffe Uptown, naked, smokin' a bag with hash, check it Shut your windows and lock your doors Whores scream louder than Berrymore
Verbal Razors by Exodus ======================= Every time I see your grinning face I realize you're a pitiful disgrace So many finger pointing down at
? Show me what I get? What I earned? And why? Keep me all yours Brain dead and useless Take my cues when I crippled many Must sit with you, corrupt without pity
everything and cut it with the trigger happy motherfuckin' Geto Boys [ Verse 1 -- Bushwick ] We needed money, so I robbed a liquor store Down on your knees she hesitated, I kicked the whore
The pious pour their pity pure I can sell a little cure The burning flesh, the sweetest smell I kiss the angel burnt in hell I watch your fallen boring
GRACE You are not a man, You don't have a spine, Ready to surrender And put Ireland in chains Whoring's made you soft Drink has left you weak Not a drop
If mine is yours, baby, and yours is mine Then why is yours always so hard to find A king of men and a queen of whores You've built your empire on all