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Marilyn Manson Lyrics
 | | Vampy counterculture icon Marilyn Manson (born Brian Warner) rode to fame on a well orchestrated media blitz centered around his lurid live performances and gleefully remorseless badgering of the Religious Right. Manson's satanic attitudinizing (see his website for an eyeful) and ghoulish Alice Cooper-meets-Anton LaVey persona earned him a large cult following among disaffected teenagers looking to scare the bejesus out of their parental units. Going the road-tested Nine Inch Nails formula of driving Industrial beats and vivisectional lyrics one step further by camping up visually, Manson hit payola with Antichrist Superstar (1996). On this album -- his finest moment -- Manson's evil imp vocals are girded by a bad acid trip assortment of percussive guitar chops, world-gone-wrong samples and dancefloor throb. The glam-dandy follow-up Mechanical Animals (1998) was a concerted effort to crawl from beneath former producer Trent Reznor's long shadow. While the album succeeded on that account, it failed to ignite the frenzied devotion of his fans. Its middle-of-the-road tempos and sanitized textures seemed less a savage indictment of the status quo than a (cringe) bid for respectability. |
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Buy rare Marilyn Manson vinyl records, CDs and rare music albums:
| Antichrist Superstar
Disposable Teens
Golden Age Of Grotesque
Holy Wood
Last Tour On Earth
| | Lest We Forget-best Of
Mechanical Animals
Mobscene
Personal Jesus
| | Portrait Of An American Family
Smells Like Children
The Dope Show
This Is The New Shit
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Marilyn Manson Song Lyric:
Dried Up, Tied & Dead to The World
You cut off all of your fingers
Trade them in for dollar bills
Cake on some more make-up to
Cover up all those lines
Wake up and stop shaking
Don’t you want some of this?
Don’t you need some of this?
You take but cannot be given
You ride but cannot be ridden
Pinch this tiny heart of mine
Wrap it up in soiled twine
You never read what you’ve written
I’ll be your lover, I’ll be forever
I’ll be tomorrow, I am anything when I’m high
Don’t you want some of this?
Don’t you need some of this?
You shove your hair down my throat
I feel your fingers in me
Tear this bitter fruit to mess
And wrap it in your soiled dress
Now you must spit out the seeds
(chorus)
All dried up and tied up forever
All fucked up and dead to the world...
Get This Ringtone
 
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