ICP: The killing fields

Laying in my bed, I think of many horror talesYet I barely move, my bed is made of nailsI try to roll, my skin slowly tears awayMy flesh is stuck to my bed as I begin my dayWalking out the house, this morning, the sky is redThe streets are crowded with the bodies of the living deadTheyre trying to die, theyre leaping off of roof topsUh, they only scream in pain as their body flopsId rather stay inside my home and only pray to dieBut my house is been on fire since like 85I can only stand a night of the fatal smokeBut see you never die, you only burn and chokeSo I leave out the house and walk the landWild pigs run and feed off the dying manAnd look around you, theres bodies hanging from the treesBut theyre not dying, theyre only crying pleaseI hear the thunder in the sky, so I run in hideThe deadly rain may soon come down, you got to get insideThe lunatics see the lightning, theyre screaming, yesIts raining blood, the streets are a bloody messAbout once or twice a week though it thunder stormsThats when giant heavy red and black clouds formIts raining blood, livers, and kidneys from the skyPrepare cuz when you die, youre coming to the killing fieldsWhat shall that be? What shall that be? When that fine momentcomes. When the curtains are drawn, the windows are shut, thedoors close, and youve written what youve written, you saidit, thats it. What will you look to be? What about it, mister,when youve had your last beer. You laughed at family and laughed at your little wife. She begged you not to go out tothat bar.[Violent J]As I feed off a dead pig, Im thinking backTo when I had a heart beat, and how I would actI would steal from the poor, Id laugh at the sickBut in the killing fields, you get your fucking neck rippedSo as I walk along, I meet a lot of strange folksSome people with no eyes, and gashed open throatsAnd if they notice your eyeballs are working wellThey try to dig em out your skull, and go for selfNow in the summertime, its like a whole nother realmWater victims, fire, and oceans overwhelmTo walk outside, the heat will surely cook your brainsTry to run across the street your hair will burst in flamesVictims in a panic run from the heated lightUnderneath the city, into the sewer pipesInto the fire storm this becomes your new landBut theres no food, so you feed off the other menAnd now its been seven months, Im barely fedI chase a Billy Billy goat with a humans headHes steady screaming Let me be! Let me be!But while I chase him theres another demon chasing meAll of time moves backwards, Im growing oldAnd the clouds are burning fire, and so Im toldThat theres a lot of living souls such as the richThat choose to live like a bitch, Ill see you in the Killing FieldsYouve had your big time of lust and sin and filth. What isthe end going to be when you realize that time is up? Youvecrossed the finish line going in the wrong direction. What shall it be? What about it, ya man? When you spent your lifein a few years time? Youre burned out shell at 25 years ofage. What shall it be? What about it?You could go to hell (what shall it be?)Come, come on down, down (youre going to the killing fields)