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Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals
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Bedroom Destroyer
Cold beer scalds my back molars… Cold beer fattens me up for depression and I use depression…
I will use this depression just like a weapon…And it's aimed at me, and anyone who dares to come too close…
I've washed some feet… (I thought) I'd made it up…
I've kissed some feet but still they stomp on me… Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed… Bedroom destroyer…
Framed faces bring spelled leaden guilt trips… I could smash those faces with my worthless tales of yesteryear…
Count yourselves as shit-heel fortunate… You don't have to live with this; my asinine paranoid-trenches…
I've grabbed at hands… (I thought) they'd lift me up…
I've grabbed some hands but still they beat me down… Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed… Bedroom destroyer…
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I'm pulverized by…Fat, sloppy fears and…I've wrecked this room/deck, once again…But it doesn't matter…
You won't find me… I'm hidden in a black room somewhere…I'm the boarder of thousands…(Of) undisputed demons…
And I'm laying them on you thick-like…Because I'm a talker…And I'm a doer…
And I'll devour this place, sober and drunk Sober or drunk…Hail to the king of the pillow and pill…
My screams scare the birds out of every single tree for miles…With a voice once heard but best forgotten…
Trapped inside a closet inside 30-rooms and half a mile…I grabbed a knife…But there is no fight…
I've grabbed a knife, but there's no fight for me….Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed…Bedroom destroyer…
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