Tracks

01. Crown Of Horns
02. Slit Your Guts
03. Graves Of The Fathers
04. Dead And Dripping
05. Benedictine Convulsions
06. Phobophile
07. Lichmistress
08. Orgiastic Disembowelment



01. Crown Of Horns

Capricornus Rex in tenebris
I long to feel the dark caress
Of your cloven hooves;
I seek the loving warmth of your anus
As I place my worshipful
Lips about your teats.

We hate, and so we gather
By the light of the moon;
The art of veneficium...
This we learned from you...
To make them grieve in their lord,
Their redeemer in flames
Fanned by the scorn of the children
Who now curse his name.

Sire of sin,
You embody me
Undivine...
To you we congregate;
None so vile,
Your magnificent
Crown of horns
Inspires deeds maleficent.

Destroy the parasite [x3],
Destroy Jesus Christ.

They'll crawl in their perdition,
The righteous will be lost
Where gutted angels lie fucked...
Beneath the feunral cross;
We'll dig them a mass grave soon,
And bring to their knees
Those who would have rescinded
The laws of disease.

"The children have turned",
The cherubs wail,
As anticross triumphs
Where the cross has failed.

Hell-spawned majesty, we eagerly
Await the advent of the
Next millennium
When you will return with a swarm from
Beyond to claim your carnal
Lost dominion.


02. Slit Your Guts

Pardon, please, the narrow
Confinement of your limbs;
Unfortunately, it's necessary
For your correction;
Shriek to your heart's
Content, if you wish;
I promise you pain and
Nightmares, in that sequence.

Permit me to introduce you to
"Tuesday"...
I favor her, this pretty blade
So tall and fine;
Hatred and violence are not
Our ways, but firm we are;
Squirming is useless, so is this
Colon, cry for me.

Svelte is implement,
Its gentle caress lets you Bleed;
its subtle curvature
Dancing, deeply slit your guts.

It's for your own good;
You need guidance, I provide;
What is your pleasure? This is
Mine; A welcome change!


03. Graves Of The Fathers

Sextons of the churchyard
Have seen unblessed things;
Ground no longer hallowed
Has sprouted new graves.

Descendants of clan
That unsurped maternity
hear whispers in their blood;
This summons of the Fathers.

Adherence to the principle
Of "man by woman born"...
Anachronistic ritual
Soon to be obsolete.

"Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
My grave beckons
As irresistible as drawing breath."

Nature abhors a vacuum,
The same is true to a tomb...
It cannot be empty.
A barren womb of plenty...
A vacant grave must be filled.
For this the Fathers' will,
Material birth be abjure,
A mother's cunt is unpure.

Sired in blasphemy,
In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts
Filled with necrolatry
Reverse the life cycle be reborn through Death.

"Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
I leave a void to fill one,
Hear my prayers from far below."


04. Dead And Dripping

Matriarchal piety disturbed at their
Vespers.
Sisterly society feels the stifling whispers...
Anger of the dead-at-sea denied proper
Interment,
Dumped overboard summarily, washed down
In a current.

Sepulchral consideration...
Wrathful omen...
Dog removed from the casket,
Dead and dripping.

First stage of disintegration... Piecemeal
Decomposition
Of the indignant deceased, submerged for
What reason?
Parchedness of living throats and mouths
Has cracked some tongues
But attempts to slake their thirst (only)
Leads to soaking lungs.

Hearts are heavy, minds are numb, souls
Oppressed...
Supernatural siege upon the landlocked
Dead.
Baptism in netherfluids In their crypts,
(but) Suffocating dryness in the catacombs.

Mad at thirst, they dry
To draw sustenance
From a burial mound;
Necrophagous fails,
Aridity ends lives,
More wet corpses found.

Watery warfare, and in its mist,
The forsaken
Who cry for them, the bridges of
The flaccid god.

Intone a funeral rosary...
Blessed morbid murmur
To hopefully placate the dead and
End the curse of moisture.


05. Benedictine Convulsions

An ominous disembowelment...
The soothslayer is blinded, such is fate;
Abomination to damn the eyes...
For the righteous, a test of faith.

"We thank thee lord, for this tribulation,
We sing thy praises without end;
No matter how rabid the oppressor,
We shall not fail thee, though we pray for
Strength."

Ensnared in the web of the unjesus,
The once-sacrosanct abbey is
Besieged,
With the braying of the
Nightgoat,
Benedictine friars convulse.

Infernal visions flay their souls
As their bodies contort and writhe...
Capricornus nocturnum haunts them,
From their torment springs its delight.

Impaled on one of its many legs,
A bug-eyed Mary gapes on in horror
As her only son is chewed to bits
By spiderchrist... She is flecked with gore.

Caprine morturion leads the bones
Of their departed brethren
In the abbey's catacombs;
When gargoyles vomit blood,
The defunct will ascend
To rend the mortal flesh
Of the brothers of the good word,
And make victims of their guts.

Those who are left,
Of god bereft
Run amongst heads
Suspended by threads.

Crosses up-ended
And frenzied blooshed
For those who sought favour
From their saviour.

"I am messiah"
The grand delusion
To hell-wracked things,
Revelation.


06. Phobophile

Lyrics by Lord Worm
In the kitchen
With a screaming triple amputee;
It's completion depends solely
On my needs.
Said amputee stumps
Are my way of saying;
"Thank you just for being you."
It's fear tastes better than it's limbs.

Terror of mortality,
I draw from the slowly dying damned
Monsters live behind my eyes;
I let them out and people die.
And all the grave worms
That come for their piece of meat?
I give them dead things..
The wretched living are mine alone

Fright mounts with the body count
To which anthropomancy predicts a decline
In all of God's creation,
Can there be a lifestyle that's better than this?

I mark my territory
With their blood and excitement
And adipocere...
I can find my way in the dark;
My fulfillment is habitually necromanic
And anal abusive..
Seen through the eyes of a mortician

They've "caught" me, as they call it;
My teeth and my semen have betrayed me..
Nevermore!
Tests to gauge my rationale,
The likes of which these feeble minds have
Never seen.

Rorschach blotters,
My responses to which inspire fear...
From my lizard side,
The amoral alien speaks;
"These aren't butterflies,
I see a face I'd like to burn."

Obfuscation
Of the authorities with lies,
And my natur
Alability to charm and be me,
Or whoever they want;
I've known all minds by divine right.


07. Lichmistress

Our lady of seven sorrows,
Mother of mourning, precious lich...

A white horse found your grave,
Then it was beheaded.
The funeral goat's semen
Annoints your resting place.

Far below, the state you're in replenishes
My well of loss
As things from beyond watch as you rot
Beneath me.
Wretchedly, I pine as I begin at once to claw
The earth
To free you from the worms, to free you
From damnation.

The stake in your bosom pains me too...

Wistfully, I gaze into those empty holes
Which once were eyes
That beheld so much blood, that beheld so
Much evil...
Cyanotic lips caress the cold grey face of
One interred
Whose flesh is much too frail, whose flesh
Begins to quiver.

Mistress of my flesh,
Your servant longs for your kiss,
To hold you once again,
All pretty with blood...

Now shall all of heaven weep.


08. Orgiastic Disembowelment

You have sinned.
You will die...
You will be absorbed.

No more god,
Safe at last...
Embrace the abyss.

The dark is warm,
Comforting...
Welcome to the fold.

Close your soul,
Turn your heart,
Learn...

Let us prey
On the weak.
Feed the dark
With their flesh;
Orgiastic disembowelment.

Wretched birth,
Cursed by life,
Now the way is shown.

Happily
Suffering
Skyclad flagellants.

Bask in the
Impure
Caresses of the scourge.

Mortified...
There is no
Sacrifice too great.

Let us prey...

"I am filth,
Born of shit,
And I am
Beloved of flies."

Abomination
In the eyes of all that is holy,
We know who and what you are...
We've learned your name, we know your
Name.

Resisilobus,
Your only designs on the living
Are to oppress and possess;
To make them cry, to make them die.

"As I arose,
Heaven wept,
For I am
Beloved of flies."

Moonlight bloodbath...
The gore runs as black
As their unclean hearts;
Goat cult rite.

Gore-soaked virgin,
In bleeding frenzy,
Parts with her maker
Amidst weeping spirits.