House of Cyrus

by Hope Has Failed Us

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released December 31, 2012

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Hope Has Failed Us Dallas, Texas

Ear-shattering and headache inducing Metal from the mighty state of Texas! Don't fuck with Texas!

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Track Name: The Juggernaut
Blackest of black, darkest of dark.
His heart grows colder and colder.
The warmth of flesh, the cracking of bones.
This brings him great satisfaction.
Darkened clouds, descend upon.
His retched soul.
Annihilate, decimate.
It's the thrill of the hunt.

What is blood, if not for spilling?

Blackest of black, darkest of dark.
His heart grows colder and colder.
The warmth of flesh, the cracking of bones.
This brings him great satisfaction.
Darkened clouds, descend upon.
His retched soul.
Annihilate, decimate.
It's the thrill of the hunt.

What is blood, if not for spilling?

Kill, crush, destroy

Your death will be legendary.
Your anguish will be whispered upon their lips.
Their fear will feed his soul.
Even in death, his name will live on.

Blackest of black, darkest of dark.
His heart grows colder and colder.
The warmth of flesh, the cracking of bones.
This brings him great satisfaction.
Darkened clouds, descend upon.
His retched soul.
Annihilate, decimate.
It's the thrill of the hunt.

What is blood, if not for spilling?

I'll eat their little hearts.
Track Name: The Harlot
She's, every man's desire.
With a stare, that can set you on fire.
Her beauty, rival's that of an angel.
But she's, to blind to see.

Possessing, natural looks, of a goddess.

Overwhelmed, by the slightest imperfections.
Her blemishes, brings character.
For her mirror, is her worst enemy.
Distorted, visions of reality.

She embraces, the cold metal of the blade.
The warmth of blood, the tearing of flesh.
These self mutilations, brings upon her devastation.
No turning back now, for her blood's pouring out.

She cuts, to ease the pain.
Each deeper, than before.
Severing the vain, no longer just a scar.

The stiff cold kiss of forever.
This eternal slumber.

Even in, death, she's beautiful.
Track Name: The Jackal
Living in this hell called life.
Bound by his addictions.
Tormented by his demons.
That’s driven him insane.

Padded walls, can't contain, his tortured soul.
Strait jackets, won't constrain, his contorted body.
Nothing made, can confine, his madness.
His veins! begin to fill, with this rage.

Living in this hell called life.
Bound by his addictions.
Tormented by his demons.
That’s driven him insane.

Padded walls, can't contain, his tortured soul.
Strait jackets, won't constrain, his contorted body.
Nothing made, can confine, his madness.
His veins! begin to fill, with this rage.

A consuming spirit.
Possessed with hatred.
With desire to mutilate.
Those retched whores.

Living in this hell called life.
Bound by his addictions.
Tormented by his demons.
That’s driven him insane.
Born of a whore, rapped of dignity.
Fueled by hate, driven by instinct.
This trail of blood, leads back to him.
For all is lost, of what used to be.

Cold as ice, Soulless eyes.
Nothing to steer him, but the hate inside.
Fate was his! and his alone.
The warmth of flames, the long embrace.
The last dance, the dance with death.
So come walk, with him in hell.