Tekstovi: Misfits. Cuts From The Crypt. Fiend Without A Face.

See the features of my rage, begin to shoot the fiend without a face, my face. The fever rots, the brain goes numb inside, I feel a blackout comming, a boiled blister pops inside, my ears still bleed with razor sharp precision, mouth to mouth the sweetness dangle by the breath upon my chest. See the features of my rage, begin to shoot the fiend without a face, my face. we dance all night the dogs keep up and snickering, just stay with me one moment then i'll go away, my ears still bleed with razor sharp precision, i'll burn in hell before I plunge into lifes darkness, darkness. See features of my rage, begin to shoot the fiend without a face, see the features of my rage, begin to shoot the fiend without a face, my face, the fiend without a face, the fiend without a face, the fiend without a face, a fiend without a face.