Month: August 2019

Allflaws – Cradle To Grave (Verse 2) Written By Gabriel Curran

The shift ends and now it’s time to go home
Take a rest from the corporate monochrome
All tired and beaten up from the day
Need to sleep, but I stay awake anyway
Get a fix, escape for a short while
Have a drink and crack a little half smile
On the couch, staring at the TV
In a slumber wishing I could be free
Flicking through the channels of distraction
Keeping me in a state of inaction
In a cycle, blighted by the routine
In a trap, governed by the machine

(Possessed) Written by Gabriel Curran


Your lips spit black acid projectile, every diction laced in hate fermented bile. Because you’re so damn wicked you give demons the fear, reduce Lucifer to tears.
You smoke asbestos from acid laced strips, inhale pain through cancer chard lips.
Your swollen varicose limbs are septic pin cushions for doses of HIV negativity, as your fellow fiends down shots of blood syphilis fatality.
You snort white lust from devil reflected mirrors, looking back at your emaciated face makes your whole soul quiver.
You see the bloodshot delusion in your own acrimonious eyes, the intoxicated demon of your own feckless demise.
You’re so impure, as you sweat toxins from your puss infected pores, insects nestling into your fermented sores.
To alleviate the self suffering, you take another hit from the atomic bong, as radiation incinerates every conscious thought, and then your mind distorts into apocalyptic scene, a child burning scream.
Your calloused heart is a toxic cesspit of thick scum and grease, as industrial waste spews from your fetid fulminating mouthpiece.
At the end of the day you soak your festering wounds in your salt laced tears, your squalid bath tub of needle infested fears.