TomB - Weapon k**ah (Too Cold Windy Blow Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1: Tomb] s**ing blood from infant's wound “Laugh-In” Maltese Bippy goons Spilling blood-for-ink, cartoonists swooned In Freemasonic Code of Number Conversion 7/1 = 71 = 63, in numerology 666 the Beast “The Profit Has Been Avenged” The star-planet moving to the East “ISIS Still Expanding in Spite of US Victories” Freedom of Speech Means Freedom to Peach Fo' Minister of Info' Faux Minister of Infaux Not Mohammed, naw E. Rayman playin' Allah At MohamMAD Magazine Ed., Dieudonné M'bala M'bala Jean-Marie Le Pen his child's godfather Reglement de Comte de Bouderbala [Verse 2: Stalker] Yes, yes, Puck-Arielle, let these pages be the modest stage I've set A snapping, dancing firestorm balletic in its burnt ham wit Served to inane dunces slit by the Sphinx's dagger solar ambit They say in Tanzania chimpanzees have firedancers Better than our straitjacket flits. Poor Lord Peter Apnea Thought himself a spider, left without a web - Let fly, - and in his fall a nation's necromantic fancy Blossoming black wisp readings of Wills left intestate With us to s** the squirt of Hecate's next pressed breast leak Harried by autumnal colors, lightning lapels bespoke fraternity Yet touched us to the quick at Chappaquiddick That season I lost someone to a double game of quidditch While Henley ‘scaped us through starry windows with fair Eternity Abiding now in the gossamer of Winehouse Algol Mugwump Shall we as a nation hew it, this Jamestown starve's dream of London With binge-purge Diane and too-poignant Ferguson In Sloane Square encompa**ed by a Bafomet's cussing As misery would have it in a bear's paw fern or pelican's ladle The fish that flipped out like a tired dredl Or Jeffrey who clawed his way to the top To steal it from toddlers wearing bonnets With no St. Lou' as ludique guide, no arch Spencer-ian sonnet No Wainwright Building's bullet window to k** an Eric Errant like that vile girl of Metz “burnt at the stake,” Unhorsed by violent bowman, rein, spit and bloody bit [Verse 3: Nitemare] Yes, cowslip-anthem, mercurial blood-bubble Puck Twin of Arielle of Dumba**le, make thee hence and fly the coop Let stars rue your rooster flight to subtle cups Drunk as a deep dish from a shallow river's d**h And brought thereby to edgy heath, Elizabeth'd By tickling Seymour and stand-offish Parr Alice through Elizabeth's The Mirror Or the Sinful Soul, (“KP” on embroidered cover With KAPHR for nations conquered perhaps meaning “KAFFIR”) Her gown nevertheless cut to tatters left in clover Like luckless Seymour when his head did shatter Bloody scalp and ensign pulver'd [Hook] "f** the police, f**, f** f** the police, f**, f**"