Jack: The Introduction "Stretch the meat out more, Corey! We want it to be nice and lean for the market, don't we boy?" Grandpa always insisted that the flesh be lean, for the people at the market wouldn't be able to tell it was human. And yes, you're probably asking yourself this very question, "Why are you selling human flesh at a market?" Well, I'll tell you why, but it's somewhat of a long story, beginning when my grandpa was just a child. It was a Saturday morning in early June, my grandpa, or Jack Prichard, had just woken up and walked downstairs for breakfast. Today was his father's birthday and boy, did he have a surprise planned for him. Jack's father was always abusive toward everyone in the family, he would slap any of the children if they got out of line, or even Jack's mother if she had forgotten to make dinner. The Prichards usually kept to themselves, but when they would go to church a smile would be forced and their actions would be caring. Each day seemed like Hell, but this Saturday
Venting and MadnessTie knots around you teeth and sink to the surface, clearing the air with each sheep you slaughter.Eliminate the consequences divided into threes, protect those you loathe and love the ones you leave.I've seen enough reality to know my own is fake, slithering and curling around all the truths like a snake.And still beyond your concerning thoughts lies a simplistic little party, invite me to it darling and I will confiscate your life.
ThingsPurple and lily eyes cast into the fire, split hairs and removed nails also fall into the flames.Silver dollars and emerald rings thrown into the ocean, as they sink to the bottom, hear them sing.Shredded dresses, painted blood diamonds, and iridescent things, accompany the lost objects and let their voices ring.Moonlit corsets and tattered ribbons made of souls, style, and time, become one with the ocean, for I must sink without a rhyme.
TheirTheirDissect their cancerous minds, warp them and crush them, turn them into lines.Shred their veins and slice open their eyes, save the blood that runs for further times.Snip their ligaments, and slaughter their hearts, for their parts are useless and their souls are tart.
YouYouRemove yourself from the past, save the grief you've caused me, at last.Please go away and save your blabber, it can be mentioned during another case.I ask you kindly to stab your own throat, for your words mean nothing if said out of place.Admit your failures, admit your faults, you existence annoys me and I'm through with your soul.
The Weary SoulsThe Weary SoulsThe weary souls, the wretched souls, listen to them speak.The tales they tell of far and beyond, all stories told to keep.Hear their whispers of forgotten times, some old and beyond, some new.Mentioned first, never mentioned last, for they always speak of you.