"Care for a little necrophilia, hm?" I was born with a birthmark of cinders Debris cast from the stars and Mother A ring of bright slaughter, I spat in the waters Of life that ran slick from the stabwounds in Her Dub Me Lord Abortion, the living dead The bonesaw on the backseat On this bitter night of giving head A sharp rear entry, an exit in red Lump in the throat, on my come choke The killing joke worn thin with breath I grew up on the sluts bastard Father beat blue Keepsake cunts cut full out easing puberty through Aah! Nostalgia grows Now times nine or ten Within this vice den called a soul Dying from resurrection I dig deep to come again The spasm of orgasm on a roll... I live the slow serrated rape The bucks fizz of amyl nitrate Victims force fed their own face Tear stains upon the drape I should compare them To a warm Summer's day But to the letter, it is better To lichen their names to a grave Counting My years on an abacus strung With labial rings and heartstrings undone Dub Me Lord Abortion, the living dead The bonesaw on the backseat On this bitter night of giving head A sharp rear entry, an exit in red Lump in the throat, on My come choke The killing joke worn thin with breath Horrorscopes My diorama A twelve part psychodrama Another chained I mean to harm Her Inside as well as out A perverts gasp inside the mask I'm hard, blow My house of cards All turn up Death, Her bleeding starts In brute vermilion parts... Now I slither through the hairline cracks In sanity, best watch your back Possessed with levering Hell's gates wide Liberating knives to cut Humanity slack My ambition is to slay anon A sinner in the hands of a dirty God Who lets Me prey, a Gilles De Rais Of light where faith leads truth astray I slit guts and free the moistest faeces Corrupt the corpse and seize the choicest pieces Her alabaster limbs that dim the lit carnal grin Vaginal skin to later taste and masturbate within "My heart was a war-drum beat By jugular cults in eerie jungle vaults When number thirteen fell in My lap Lips and skin like sin, a Venus Man-trap My appetite whetted, storm crows wheeled At the blurred edges or reason 'till I was fulfilled Whors d'oeuvres eaten, I tucked Her into A grave coffin fit for the Queen of Spades She went out like the light in My mind Her face an avalanche of pearl, of ruby wine... Much was a flux, but the mouth once good for fucks Came from retirement to prove She had not lost Her touch I kissed Her viciously, maliciously, religiously But when has ONE been able TO best separate the THREE? I know I'm sick as Dahmer did, but this is what I do Ahh, ahh, ahh, I'll let you sleep when I am through... You fucking whore." The suspect shadows where they least Expect My burning grasp to reach The stranglehold, the opened arms Seeking sweet meat with no holes barred Rainbows that My razors wrung Midst Her screams and seams undone Sung at the top of punctured lungs I bite My spiteful tongue Lest curses spat from primal lairs Freeze romance where Angels, bare Are lost to love, blood-loss, despair I weep, they merely stare... And stare, and stare, and stare, and stare. Çoğu kişi sevmeyebilir Cradle Of Filth'i ama ben yine de paylaşayım dedim belki black metal seven çıkar