1982 from Heretic's Fork by Insect Radio

Everything you love,
which is nothing,
I would sell it to you and kill you,
Kill you for things you don't get, kill you

Worship me like God,
always nothing but still control lives,
Blank eyes
Deaf ears that's my creation,
Blank minds

A certain hostile perfection is
a shotgun armed.

Damaged beyond repair
I am the worst
counter-evidence
for every view
and theory in your head
I am the worst
Against the hollow men
Callous people that throw empty words at you.

If you take them seriously there's no end to it.
I don't feed their arrogance, take my eyes off them
When you die everything you know disappears.
A life without revelation's no life at all.

• Punk
• Spastic
• Thrash Metal
• hardcore punk
• mathcore
• post-hardcore
• post-punk
• punk
• thrash
• Athens