Thursday, August 30, 2012

Sadistic.Music∞Factory - cosMo (暴走P)

MP3: Click "MP3 を抽出"
Upload Date: 08/27/12
Vocals: 初音ミク - Hatsune Miku
Composer: cosMo (暴走P) - cosMo (BōsōP)

Author's Comments
"Taste? Individuality? If those kinds of THINGS can be eaten, then anything can! So, quickly hand over some food to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"


"Welcome! To MY music factoryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

The fact of the matter is that I have led you all here.
I want you to deliver fresh "music" to ME incessantly.

I'll consume and assimilate thousands, ten thousands of songs;
In order to maintain this physique, I want many people to forever, forever be beside me.

But so as that humanity, even you all, listen, harvest and metabolize food,
The potentiality that I, without music, listen, would starve to death in 3 days.

So, please quickly make some music (food) for ME. Make it friggin' now, c'mon.
I have confidence that badgers you with a surely forever cuter smile!

"Hey! You there! Ya can't rest your hands! Did you think I wasn't watching?
Next time you cut corners, you won't be able to leave here alive, so with that in mind......'kay?"

You completely understand that such a thing as deciding to escape is pointless, don't you.
I'll chase after you everywhere, everywhere, corner you, torment and arrest you.

Since you get to be burdened with big shackles called "ME" your whole life, y'know,
Shall we all experience insatiable agony until we die?

"Huh, we're missing 1 person. I wonder, could it be they escaped? Could it be, huh..."

Eat as I may, eat as I may, my stomach shrinks. Though you all might not understand it,
There is not one thing that'll become provisions where you spun so many words.

Eat as I may, eat as I may, my stomach shrinks. Though you all might not understand it,
A sense of ordinarily AGGRESSIVE irritation. Please, don't get any angrier than this.

"The reckless fugitive. Where the heck did they go?"

"I found them."

I can never completely wipe it away. The horror that returns to everything and nil.
Despite death being meant to be unrelated, the time of one's final moment that passes ever by.

With sound coming to an end like that, HYSTERIC in only thinking that
I'll be deserted by the past. The jarring throbbing of my thoughts' circuitry.

Swallowing and masticating enough to be showered in trifling tales.
Remembering my anger in the figure (my heart) that's made of patched-together music (tales).

I spit out, return, throw out a large quantity of obscurant lost things.
A nihil impulse, which is forever no one and noTHING, changes into "hunger".