The Butcher Lyrics

Doomsday, the end of the century
In accord with prophecy
Are all your fears, and fires, and family
Written within The Book Of Butchery?

My appetite is endless
The people defenseless
This land is big, this land is bigger
But never as big as the mouth of the singer-o

Every morning I listen to confessional
I don't give a shit 'bout the bulk of it
Still I keep it professional
And as penance I tell 'em to proselytize
Say the sun is red, and that I am red, and
All their bases belong to us

And of doomsday, the end of the century
In accord with prophecy
Put all your fears, your fires, your family
Into the mouth of Final Fantasy

The bishops will kneel at their altars and sing
And remove their coils, their rings, their jewels Lay them all down in sacrifice
What of things? What things? What is this thing?
I've a temper as shiny as any bling!
And all this attention will gain you no favour in
Paradise.

Doomsday, the end of the century
In accord with prophecy
Go all your fears, your fires, your family
Into the mouth of Final Fantasy

The crack
Where is the crack?
When did I crack?

Then I'll stand alone on a planet with
Nothing left to remember it
I'll try, I'll try, I'll try to prevent it
I'll try, I'll try, but I'll never stop it, no

Muzzle me, muzzle muzzle me
Bind my will and break of me
You try, you try, you try to prevent it
You'll try, you'll try, but you'll never stop it, no

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