Lock Up the Wolves Two

I listen to my words but they fall far below I'll never make the same mistake carnality lifting through the extreme blinded decorum of harmful interludes there isa cave with evil twisted ways caverns filled with darkened conclaves dark viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side the highway indian spirit burning riding on Hell's highway the sound of a motorcycle engine exploding a sound of laughter beneath it's swell a highway to Hell decorated plains headed as nomadic tribesmen darkened caverns of high volume of steel in the darkened dungeon in the pit of death when no one cares or gives a **** the motorcycle gang was coming out swinging a crowd of social anarchy in the midst the less a man thinks then so he does we sweep things underneath the rug here we celebrate in a new caged swing the way the fallen apart at the seams the wolves were in a tragic scene things falling apart at the seams beady little eyes with blood off side locked away in the solitude of the moment caged barbaric conquest through the battle black smoke of radiating heavy metal exploits