© 2002 Devil Doll
(*Erm... I don't know.*)
I have this obsession
It's a surprise it's not caused by depression
It's a divine need
It bleeds off power
It is not drugs
It is not pain
It is not pleasure
It is not plain...
It is a band
Of nine masked men
It is nine men
Of big-hearted maniacs
Number 5 is silent as he can be,
Giving off samples
That may seem easy.
Number 4 is a joker as tall as a cloud,
Giving off strings
That are loud.
Number 3 is a dickface, strange as it may seem,
And tears up
Number 1 is as fast as a junkie on speed,
His feet move
Faster than you'd take.
Number 2 is as sweet as they come,
With a fetish, strange to some
He pulls off low, hard beats with a bass
And has talent no one can face.
Number 6 is insane, yet a hard-drug man,
He's a Clown, hilarious
Yet very brutal
He beats himself, his friends, and his equipment up.
Number 0 is a man of many faces
Each face contains a personality, who he really his now lost
He's crazy and jumps off of everything
The DJ guy, the Fifth Epitome of life.
Number 7 is as intimidating as can be,
Yet he's the sweetest that anyone has seen
He's large and very brutal with a guitar
He can make V.a.i. even sound like a beginner.
Then Number 8, the frontman of it all,
He's heavy, he's eyecatching, he's full of life and care
His voice is rough, and he'll take you anywhere
This man stands up infront of everything, and takes the pain for everyone...
I've got this obsession
For once it is not caused by depression
A divine need all in itself
A pleasure of life
This obsession bleeds of power
It is a group
Nine masked men
The nine men
The big-hearted maniacs
In the heart of brutal music.