| Song | Glitchbomb |
| Artist | Angelspit |
| Album | Carbon Beauty |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I snort bricks, through a gold straw | |
| Been outta work since 84 | |
| (My) diamond machete, turns wrong to right | |
| Can’t see the bacon, for the pigs in flight | |
| Fat roll of hundred dollar fuses | |
| Stuff ‘em in the mouth of a fine Jamaican | |
| You’ve been bottle fed, dropped on your head | |
| Don’t care if you bleed in bed | |
| Skinny dip in a sea of razor blades | |
| I am your tongue, this is what you say | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb - Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression - Obliteration! | |
| Now you’re busily rotting away | |
| To leather, sticks and insanity | |
| The charming boy, a train wreck hymn | |
| His life has become a coping mechanism | |
| Hey buddy, got a match? | |
| Gets me in the mood for obliteratin’ | |
| Butterfly with iron cross wings | |
| A smile slides across my canines | |
| Golden cannon, letter from Kurt | |
| I got something to tell you and it’s gunna hurt | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb - Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression - Obliteration! | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb - Obliteration! | |
| Human Liquidation - Obliteration! |
| I snort bricks, through a gold straw | |
| Been outta work since 84 | |
| My diamond machete, turns wrong to right | |
| Can' t see the bacon, for the pigs in flight | |
| Fat roll of hundred dollar fuses | |
| Stuff ' em in the mouth of a fine Jamaican | |
| You' ve been bottle fed, dropped on your head | |
| Don' t care if you bleed in bed | |
| Skinny dip in a sea of razor blades | |
| I am your tongue, this is what you say | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression Obliteration! | |
| Now you' re busily rotting away | |
| To leather, sticks and insanity | |
| The charming boy, a train wreck hymn | |
| His life has become a coping mechanism | |
| Hey buddy, got a match? | |
| Gets me in the mood for obliteratin' | |
| Butterfly with iron cross wings | |
| A smile slides across my canines | |
| Golden cannon, letter from Kurt | |
| I got something to tell you and it' s gunna hurt | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression Obliteration! | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Human Liquidation Obliteration! |
| I snort bricks, through a gold straw | |
| Been outta work since 84 | |
| My diamond machete, turns wrong to right | |
| Can' t see the bacon, for the pigs in flight | |
| Fat roll of hundred dollar fuses | |
| Stuff ' em in the mouth of a fine Jamaican | |
| You' ve been bottle fed, dropped on your head | |
| Don' t care if you bleed in bed | |
| Skinny dip in a sea of razor blades | |
| I am your tongue, this is what you say | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression Obliteration! | |
| Now you' re busily rotting away | |
| To leather, sticks and insanity | |
| The charming boy, a train wreck hymn | |
| His life has become a coping mechanism | |
| Hey buddy, got a match? | |
| Gets me in the mood for obliteratin' | |
| Butterfly with iron cross wings | |
| A smile slides across my canines | |
| Golden cannon, letter from Kurt | |
| I got something to tell you and it' s gunna hurt | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Peak hour compression Obliteration! | |
| New York City Glitch Bomb Obliteration! | |
| Human Liquidation Obliteration! |