![[untitled] / Images of War Images of Pain](https://mt1.thaer.in/assets/covers/0.jpg)
[untitled] / Images of War Images of Pain
Cripple Bastards
EP • 1994
19 Tracks
Cripple Bastards
EP • 1994
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
[COMMENTARY:] God is an imposition to justify the insecurities of those who feel most secure, a lurid insult to human intelligence, a shameful parody that has been going on for thousands years. THERE'S NOTHING ON EARTH, NOTHING THAT COMES FROM HIS (ITS) HANDS. God is an empty room, without walls or windows, an abyss of illusions dug by people's ignorance. God means waste, thousands of beings massacred, mountains of money thrown away or stolen, tons of bricks used to build his damned monuments... THERE'S NOTHING ON EARTH, NOTHING THAT COMES FROM HIS (ITS) HANDS. Or perhaps, yes, there is something... There's pain, intolerance, violence. The dishonesty of those who represent him. The only waters in which I can see his image reflected, are soaked with blood, fear, hatred.
Submitted by johnmansley — Nov 09, 2025
The bomb has completed its flight And now it's exploding among innocent children... Faces twisted with fear... There's no time to realize What has caused this immense pain Red on white, the metaphor is clear... Images of war, images of pain Images of war, images of pain
Submitted by Finntroll — Feb 06, 2026
Finding myself the connection, the perfect key to interpret your lies. My mind invades Inventing an own private philosophy, my brain selects nourishing thoughts. My mind invades A rabid dog breaks his chains - MY MIND INVADES A rabid dog breaks his chains - MY MIND INVADES
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Nov 09, 2025
In the streets, in my house, everywhere... WHY?? Die, fuckin' cops! Die, fuckin' cops!!!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Nov 09, 2025
Anni di tristezza, cazzate in televisione Divertimenti imposti... discoteca e stadio Il tuo misero sfogo nella totale sottomissione. Italia di merda Italia di merda Italia di merda L'Italia del perbenismo, l'Italia dei leccaculo è la patria dei coglioni che non usano il cervello han bisogno di qualcuno che li affoghi nello schifo. Italia di merda Italia di merda Italia di merda Muoio nel mio disgusto, sommerso dal vostro marciume. Soffoco in una strada affollata di apatia, intossicato dalla merda che ingoiate tutti i giorni. Italia di merda Italia di merda Italia di merda
Submitted by Finntroll — Nov 09, 2025
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
La mia generazione annega nel falso benessere costruito su un sistema di consenso; a gente come me non é concessa la parola, ci sarà sempre qualcuno che penserà per noi, agirà per noi, camperà su di noi. La mia generazione - ragazzi morti... La mia generazione - ...morti per vivere bene. [COMMENTO:] La mia generazione é come un albero dalle radici morte. Viviamo la nostra sconfitta passivamente, senza lacrime. Lontani dal rischio di seguire le nostre convinzioni; Essere noi stessi? NO. Non ce l'ha mai chiesto nessuno. Sarebbe troppo scomodo, troppo doloroso.
Submitted by Pestilence — Nov 09, 2025
Variations in my headache. Fists in what they call "soul". Something wrong with those shitheads.
Submitted by NecroGod — Nov 09, 2025
Walk away... to a suffered world. (vocalized hatred) Walk away... Do you think to be sincere? Do you need it?? (vocalized hatred) After days made up of months, you walked away from me. After days made up of months, you walked away from me. After days made up of months, you walked away from me. [COMMENTARY:] Left behind in the abyss of despair too far from your phallic reality, where ideas and spontaneity are replaced by cold carnal contacts.
Submitted by BloodShrine — Nov 09, 2025
[COMMENTARY:] Born in your shit, I can't enjoy the colors of grace and beauty, I can't feel anything but this uniform-unfailing sense of nausea... "Her eyes... so lovely, that you're askin' yourself how can tears................................ Her body... so perfect, that you're askin' yourself how can shit................................." "Her brain... so empty, that I'm askin' myself how can thoughts................................. Her life... so senseless, that I'm askin' myself how boring should be.........................." The colors of grace and beauty won't fit in my picture; diping my brush in your shit I'll paint a life of kicks, intimidations, self-relegation. I'm a ragman and I love my putrid clothes weared out by thousands generations. You're something worst... corrupted perfection; the static divinity of perfumed trash.
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Nov 09, 2025
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