[music - Andrew LaBarre]
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[lyrics - Ross Sewage]
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A liturgist in the realm of filth and gore
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Augean bard of ©ˇsculapian deviance
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Fables I've made, sick stories I've parlayed
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For the rapt attention of my heinous
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Despised rottrephile, the object of my infection
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A gore hound obsessed with the extreme and obscene
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In manic obesciance, I pledge my devotion
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Composing sonnets of horror for my ghoul fiend
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Penny dreadfuls are met apathetically
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Asomatous, they are mere words
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For a worthy offering I need tangible death
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The pen has proved fallible to the might of the swords
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For my Bathorial maiden, I'll kill and maim
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For our victims, the future proves bleak
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I'll slice throats in her bloody name
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Rending other's flesh that in me is so weak
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Excisions and slices and cuts to their integument
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My finesse with cutlery, she doth inspire
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Collecting a bouquet of offal, my regiment
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Trophies to admire
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Dislimbed torsos and severed craniums
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Disinterred innards and human chum
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Though I present this sanguine tribute
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It's never enough and still I'm rebuked
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A grandiose gesture, I require for a petulent madamned
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Gutted, my entrails will be preserved in canopic vials
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Formaldehyde and alcohol are meted into jars
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Lacerating extremities, a fitting end to these trials
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Incised omentum, avulsed intestines
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Abdominal evisceration, self-dissection
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Mellifluent gore is met with ennui
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My tragic reward is naught but death's kiss
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Consciousness falters as blood flows from my head
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Lay me down to die, nothing is better than this
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-----------------
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To Die For
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| Impaled |
