by Bukowski Family

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released May 26, 2012



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Bukowski Family California

Bukowski Family case history is marred with such atrocities as cannibalism, perverted human dismemberment, general unpleasantness and musical ruthless massacre.

Brace yourselves to see everything you deem precious torn apart and dragged out to the backyard to be burned in a stinking pile of waste. If it is holy to someone, it surely can be defiled.
"This is not a band, this is a death squad."
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Track Name: Initiation
old wreck of a farm, stands quiet in the sun
dusty porch, dried limb hanging above the splintered door
eyes and bones in a jar
one touch on the doorknob tells me I'm home

resting against the rusted steel door
I can taste the sour air with a hint of despair

these walls have seen things I can only dream
I lay down on the yard and let the rain wash over me

blood colors sand as I drift away from my old world
so pristine and pure
I feel rage shivering my naked and bruised body
slowly walking back to the house with an axe in my hand

once again, feeling the tickle on the back of my neck
I step down into the basement where they are waiting
and let it all loose

a candle lights the room, walls of rotted flesh
I kneel down before the dying, her agony and pain
my purification

she's screaming a name that no longer has meaning to me
I witness as life runs out of her
tied in despair she wants a salvation, the final touch
but this is initiation of madness
and it's for me alone
Track Name: Feces of Love
Elliott was his name and he used to throw a show
in a local redneck joint, humiliating herself, feeling pretty

a couple of hours a day, she's the highschool beauty queen
ten bucks a pop, he's taking the shots
in the shadow of the truck park

fishnet stockings and lush red lips, playin' gal with those fat manhips

standing under a streetlight, smoking,
waiting for the next trick, to suck another dick

soon comes a trucker, a dirty old fucker,
walking in shadows, asking the price
Elliott The Lot Lizard bends his knees


he takes a hit in the head

a candle burns on the old wooden table, panic hits the brain
can't feel his legs, numb from the waist down, tied tightly in the chair

a bowl of soup and a meatcleaver, that burned and mutilated face
sitting next to the wall, naked, covered with blood and guts
silent, just staring, sharpening the knife

it stands and walks slowly to the table
pours some soup on the plate and starts to feed Elliott

the soup is hot and it burns his already tormented cheeks
Elliott tries to fight, he cannot eat, it's disgusting
but the spoon is showed through the cheek

he's always been the feces of love
Track Name: The Tenderizer
eyes carved out, mouth quilted shut
the chain pushed through bone

muscles sore and bleeding
walking in circle, over and over again

March mutherfuckers! Stop and die
MOVE! It makes the flesh tender

Now pick up the pace
You know what you got to face
The choosing time is here
Pick one to go and the rest will remain

before your own skin, flesh and bone
you have to choose one of your own
now who's the lucky piece of shit
point a finger and make the pick

we know you're all eager (as are we)
but somebody is always the first one

March mutherfuckers! Stop and die
ready for the ol' rusty blender

rust aside, the old fucker works
hefty slabs of meat for the rest of you to eat

now you've done your part so get back in line
we didn't drag you here just to die
Track Name: Flayed Skin Tapestry
a pickup truck cruising
the memory lane, she's leaving
the watering hole, heading home
she's just what we need

a whack in the mug, we pick up the slut
now make our way to the merry old swamp

clubbed and bagged the shit bitch screams
we duct tape her head so tight she can barely breathe

back at the farm the stench so rank
as we inhale it with every breath
wounds infected in the summer breeze

old bite marks show where the new skin grows
teeth sink at the starting line

we have all the time in the world

vile fingers penetrating through flesh

nerves tear as we rip the skin apart
pain is your enemy, cause you know you're still alive

we gather to harvest the new skin
endless cycle of torment
as their hope slowly fades
the flayed skin tapestry is made
Track Name: Discipline of the Flesh Sculptor
deform reform
rebuild human flesh

deform reform
Alter human form

you bear the mark
so you will do
the discipline calls for pure skin
and flesh that we can mold

the razorblade cuts deep and clean
until resistance it meets

joints removed with extremities
hands sculpted as wings

taillight flashing
as a toyplane you hang from the ceiling
with others like you
a welcome committee to hell

we know it hurts but the end justifies the means

knees bent forward, Arms twisted backwards
nailed together, a curb strap in the mouth
all it needs is a pretty little saddle
and we're off to the fields to herd the cattle

deform reform, rebuild human flesh
alter everything that exists