Isaac - Omar Rodríguez-López

Pounds of filth, on the back of myself

Evil cannot smile

Tentacles, they are cellular

There’s hidden demise

Aren’t they nice?

Ohh

Aren’t they nice?

Ohh

Weeks of wait, will the doctor say yes

Or no to us?

Even so, I will always love you

Tomorrow is fear

Ain’t it nice?

Ohh

My device, it will call

My demise

You pray and hound you cry

Silent whimpers through the night

I know its hard, yet accept that we’ll be

What it is, molds of goo

Rotting in my bloodstream

They swim in me

Aren’t they nice?

Ohh

Ain’t it nice?

Ohh

My demise