Craft of Discontent Lyrics

Like an assassins head-wound in the shadows of disbelief.
What more its worth and back I'll come to you.
Black Jester please entertain me with such.
Theres too much of the not enough to talk myself out of this madness and ridiculous god talk.
Hell hath no fury equal to this discord the craft of discontent.
Jesus is a fucking reflex through old pornographic materials of unusually difficult livings.
A poltergeist of paranoias, psychedelic hate crimes and a massive headache in my brain.
Sanity tame me no more.