Cold, dead, dry, almond, readysh, black, desert
Glass, spear, pear, severe, star, the Grim Reaper is here |
The fourth empire must rise
To free Aubergypt from pies
The odd skies shine in red
Some large flies stare the dead
Throwing apples to us
They want us to bite the dust
The sharp Aubergyptian jabs
Are about to grill the scabs
Vermilion, readysh, vermin, realm of invertebrates
Jack jabs the jam with its jazzed-up jagged jab
Okey ! Here, they will die,
Take it and punish this pie…
We fly and see
In skies we flee
Beneath the sea
There’s a tree
It’s made of flesh
And celebrates death
We’re the score-pawn-seals
Death is our ideal (we squeal)
We will smash the crabs
We’re Aubergyptian Jabs
Aubergyptian Jabs (x6)
We’re the score-pawn-seals
Death is our ideal (we squeal)
We will smash the crabs
We’re Aubergyptian Jabs
And now the Score-pawn-seals are paddling in large puddles of magic compote
Follow the PhonoPaths
Search under and under
And harder and harder
Dig inside, dig yourself
Found their way through
Swords have darkened |
Soar in the 7 skies
Ignore vertigo
When sore
Grasp
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