Featured artwork by Irene Langholm

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The Prodigy “Baby’s Got A Temper (Instrumental)”

Censorship can suck a dick in every shade of lipstick
Going full ballistic
Plenty mystic, nothing cryptic
Blink and we’ll make sure you do not miss a single trick slick
Think you’ve seen it all, then we shall take that thought and fist it

Not to be facetious, preach the art of animosity
Make you soil your breaches as we breach like colonoscopy
Suck you off like leeches, spin the hearse, reverse psychology
And should this verse seem cursed, in turn bereft of generosity
Then don’t you go expecting an apology

By all means open up debate, feel free to state your grievances
The answer will be straight, concise and not in any way inclined to keeping up appearances
No need to wait for clearance, think it static interference
If you feel the need to question, find addresses less than clear, no need to fear us

Dearly beloved
Tis not hatred we covet
Psycho killers we may be
Sick puppies incontestably
Do make our points suggestively
But also possess conscience see

Constantly evolving, doors revolving, seeking puzzles for the solving
Sharing out our findings, thus providing mental solvents
Onus on condoning not the actions of the tyrannous
Simply utilizing voices some way from god given us

Compromising not our vision as we long since made provisions
Indecision indecisive
Much prefer the incision of a masterpiece

Dark artists see, our artistry requires the heavy bleed
Disaster pieces, artful thesis, halfway house to those in need of brutal fucking honesty
Way past gone we may well be but herein lies the reach around
Ejaculate and not one single drop shall ever make the ground
Even if it does, we’ll lick it up and blow a kiss with hint of fuck
Not come here to give a fuck for holding back the incubus

Resurging through fine art to purge these homicidal urges
Trust us, we’re unlicensed surgeons
Freeing up the burden, amputating limbs infected due to too long in the septic tank
Wanking out the toxins in a detox like no other
You can go your own way or we could all cum together

Censorship can suck a dick in every shade of lipstick
Art and porn, they ain’t the same
Should never be perceived this way
Some of us were born this way
Some of us will die this way
Sometimes they come back to fucking life this way

greykeeper is the name and we are just who we pertain to be
Two dark artists stacked to Chapel Black and living dangerously
Fallen angels acting out in manner most disgraceful
Bleeding out thick clots to other angels at our table
Got a taste for blood, well then consider this on us
Spit out any fatty bits and guzzle down the lean
And as for censorship, that bitch can suck our dick and blow us on its knees

Dearly beloved
Tis not hatred we covet
Psychopaths we may well be
Sick fucks and never less are we
Making each point no less than suggestively
Howbeit, our conscience is clear and our hands remain clean
Scrubbed up for surgery
Fucked beyond all recognition
Two dark artists brimming magic, stacked to Chapel Black and just one vision, nothing tragic
Dearly beloved
Let’s get to the fucking
SHAZAM!

Now you see us…

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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