Raised by Owls - The Dark And Twisted Realm In Which Fred Durst Resides

The leaves beneath their feet crunch and crack like broken bones.
A sinister wind tears through the trees, this forest starts to moan.
The branches twist like sprawling limbs, blotting out the sun.
This darkened wood will be their graves, there's nowhere left to run.

Beneath the gloomy shrubs the ground is torn asunder.
An interdimensional gate into another world.
Teeming with unearthly horrors beyond comprehension.
They're drawn into the light, like a moth unto a flame.

Here is where he dwells, within this realm.
Occupied by the remnants of Hell.
Destined to reign forever more.
Fred Durst the darkest of lords.

The dead horizon is littered with blackened clouds and electric storms.
From overhead a horde of ravenous demon bats begins to swarm.
Remains flow through the rivers as ghoulish figures feast on flesh.
A plane unblessed by sunlight, where gods now fear to tread.

Shadows from his pitch-black spires spread across this cursed land.
An all-enveloping fog now surrounds this rotten earth.
Past stray debris and ash-like spores, he's out there in the distance.
A once-human lich king standing effortlessly tall.

Here is where he dwells, within this realm.
Occupied by the remnants of Hell.
Destined to reign forever more.
Fred Durst the darkest of lords.

Misanthropic creature blinded by an ageless rage.
Through cosmic rifts of time and space he inflicts a sonic reign.
At the dawn of a millennia he rears his blood-red cap.
Determined to disrupt with his obstreperous brand of metal-rap.
Genre-neutral anthems of whimsy and of bile.
Elitists claim to guard the gate whilst living in denial.
This nihilistic jester spins his lurid tales of bilge.
Behind blue eyes, all things must die, a prophecy fulfilled.

"It's time for your suffering to end."

Written by:
Sam Strachan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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