A Conflict Of Hatred

It all returns in a sense of behaviour, Patterns productions, Grasping hold in a concept, A mission a fire, taking control Building in momentum, From a spark to a flame Controlling success or disaster Energy burning performing So grasp and take control For you alone are the Master Of your own success or your own disaster, Listen Escape with me take my hand. And come and dance Take my hand and come and dance, Dance into a trance Dance into a trance Dance into a trance.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

Twenty two catches, the fire still burns, When you lit those matches, in seven it yearns . At the end of the day, dead centre of town . You're still going away to swim and then to drown . Just a dream It's so vain to be real . endless shame . this is life . The cemeteries full But not full enough You won't compromise Endless biting dust To demoralize Treat us with your lies But try to create And you'll see your fate . Sitting so coy engulfing mist it swirls, Wound up clockwork toy, little girls with curls Disgust within art, I'll drink to your life Organs torn apart, entang led rot and strife . A happy new year we will paralyse New age is just a blur, then immortalize Suburban rotting town, depression its reknown, People and a place not a single trace . Moral in the text, the fire burning bright Because we are next, lighting up the night .

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025

In this a suburban sewer, When the stench affects your brain. The high rise and the media The underground is a drain A drain from the truth, Like rodents scraping so uncouth A vision of a young man Just losing his youth No move on a chess board. Aimed to change their ways, So just read it in the press Man's evolution to depress, Man's evolution With no solution To this revolution Rejoice the revolution.

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 26, 2025

Six, twenty three when the time just lingers to a place unknown . It's all quiet on a night like this, at last a place to call my own, Police car breaks the silence as the echo treads beneath my feet, The park where once a hero stood, is covered lamp light in the street . Change this now, Now some how, Change this now, You've got to have the fire and prepare to let it burn, The flames and phantom screams within the text You've gotta learn A loners life is mine but it's the way I've gotta be, The dark side of a mind, with no epitaph to see . Insane blood shot gleeming Insane the fire burning Insane a devious screaming Insane Dancing Insane . First edition has arrived the snow falls gently on this town, A church stands dark in a twilight haze, the graves they seem to where a frown . A gate it creaks an epitaph in memory of our wartime dead . But if you think you know, it's chapter one of a story left to be read . Wastelands or the pleasure dome just hides behind the nights we roam A thousand victims of circumstance, lie safely in their sheltered home, So when you see me turn away cause I just want to be alone, The worry is the hell we've made a non existing monatone, The isolation is the key determination to set us free .

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025

As her mascara melts away She's past living for today And he works like a robot toy So then stabs you and he tries to destroy But the task is a lust for hate Attacking the ones who can really relate, Pumping in energy and making a stand, But you're dead to the publics demand Can you turn around And say that you understand Say that you Can understand Well can you ? We're dancing together In the flames of insanity Let's burn.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

The smog turns visual A silver disc the rain so cold The ice age inside my head Glowing fire the silk that's read A warning the epic sign The graves are of the ones we love, So dark inside the twilight haze Echo circumstance, and dancing days. It turns into a trance The singing and the dance For the ones who bang their heads on walls, Eccentric is the host The one that plays the ghost And foolish rumours when they fall. The conflict just seals the fate Wax burning down the wick So quill the bird in flight Stained in ink do we say who's right Oh the barbs and graffiti walls. Electric the walk the dance, First edition brothers let's all sing To the pleasure of the wastelands ring. Dance into a trance Blaze the fire burning bright.

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 26, 2025

Death - turn on tune in drop out. Charge blackout cardiac Death famine, rich man poor man. Charge country town and city. Death hear, see, do nothing Charge rest us in our peace You're so frightened and ya keep on running. Locked in doors with your TV and your news, Got ya wound up and there's no chance sinning Don't pull the wool with their don'ts and do's. Keep on running and paying but we'll never know why. Death suburban rancid hatred Charge barbed wire destroy Death dirt grime marching onward Charge bomb lodged in our earth Death doomsday project fire. Charge age demise now cry. Death tax lawless you counteth. Charge you were born to pay. Death gothic system despise. Charge rating cash then die. Death just to follow leaders Charge the isolation mine. Death ?

Submitted by The Void — Apr 26, 2025

Vlad the impaler we ain't talking 1588 . No use startin crying, we're at war we judged it just too late Lord Byron, turn round underground, in battles of the underworld . The order of the dragons, and the flesh like butter being knurled . Graf Orlok, played by max, indeed just what you don't expect . F.W. the creator should be proud, the fiction in correct . The artist gently paints in oil composers make the mighty bang . Alas they love you when you're dead, an epitaph left to be sang . Just like modern times Vlad is back, he's looking for your blood, A conflict made of hatred, drink it down it's gonna do ya good . Pure filth Communicate Pure filth Desolate Pure filth Sacrifice Pure filth Human life . Communicate Sacrifice Desolate Human life . Horrific myths turn visual, escaping maybe just a dream As cursing them is the conflict clear it is our scheme . Glenarvon mystery, it unveils, centuries a long time ago . Real life legend, literature imagination that can grow . John George felt the rope cut it, it's August 1949 . A decade on from world war 2 yet still they want our flesh to dine blood wine .

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

I'm watching you just walk on by You're looking so cold, a tear in your eye This shouldn't be, you tear out your hair Scream stricken with fear and they would not dare What will you do if you've all got it wrong Don't be a fool and try and suss out this song Let time reflect on you a closet ghost If we are eliteja forcejwhy call the last post? We don't speak the same but still we all know This movement won't die a cult horror show When we step aside to pump in new blood To erupt again it will not do no good What will they say when we are long gone A mark that we've made no power as strong They tear down our history of father's that fought To start just again the lessons that were taught

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

Direct our own true way, although they'll always knock us. And see the time run out, like sand no guarantees. A world the face on their clock, we fight them ten to one, Machines the dial turning, wiped to change TV. Sell out become so famous, receipt and plug the flame Oh my and how they tamed us your life in quarantine. You're future so unreal, but now it's passed you by. The wounds of war lie still, untouched but they still die. And so we all rejoice and dancing side by side We make our mothers life, but never sacrifice Punching out the clock, time rears its ugly voice So to the darkness we are pushed, not given second choice. Half way round the world, my job has just begun And you turn around and say to me I hope you're having fun. It's all a farce a real good game, So mature to listen but far too young to tame, It's all a farce a real good game Sorry son, tell me what's your name.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Warfare - How those days come drifting back to me. When we cowered in the security of the ghostly flash bomb smoke. Safe in our velour clad aisles. Trenches of dependable symmetry, nestled in a strange Amphitheatre of noise and war. And above us, strangely clad demi gods immersed in bombarding Hues of ever changing lights, every bead of sweat highlighted Upon their tortured brows. Whilst their fingers did magic with strange weapons of mystery Long sleek guns which hung from the neck and sang at the hip. A multitude of different voices, Shrieking and whining at the command of the demi gods. But now my friends the demi gods are no more. Warfare are here - we will not be told what to do Alternative metal for metal alternatives. We will meet again - keep the faith and keep on writing..

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 26, 2025