1. |
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The icy pines make lost our trail, our tracks are wisped away by snow.
Slowly hypothermic symptoms flourish as they start to show
A shallow cave is sighted, where ice hangs low like fangs, with over encombered legs we trip and stumble
into open space
With lack of hastful action, the two would surely die, where sacrifice is necessary for one may now survive
Upon this night, and my skin of blue,
The life from loved companion I withdrew
Take now thy flesh, take now thy blood,
Take now thy sentience for sacrifice you must
The way the snow reflects, upon, your frozen, tomb
And as the sun begins to fall, your lips lie cold
With clumsy frozen fingertips, it warms my core with every sip, nature wins as blood runs raw and I am left alone
The land lay silent, my maidens echoed cries, the blizzard has now come to pass but here I wait to die
Upon this night, and my skin of blue
The meat from frozen corpse I do remove
Take now thy heart, take now thy blood,
For in this gutted body I find warmth
now givith one last deadly kiss
And my skin of blue,
now reeks of death,
now reeks of you,
In front of god,
I mourn for you,
My skin of blue
My skin of blue
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2. |
Adaptive Biology
03:37
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Moving as one, striking like wolves, their blood has trickled cold
With mandibles strong, and teeth grown in rows, adaptive biology
Breath the stench of unpalpable bloodshed, as corruption sets in, and corruption will win
Strengthened by numbers made bestial by time, the mortals shall bleed at the feet of their kind
Undead, coming, brace, yourselves
Beware the uncountable subjects of hell
For ease of use, their limbs do grow,
their legs five feet from hip to toe
Oh but we know,
That their poison is much too toxic, and their wits are far too sharp, in the shells of what once were human, they will rip this world apart
Moving as one, striking like wolves, their blood has trickled cold
With mandibles strong, and teeth grown in rows, adaptive biology
Breath the stench of unpalpable bloodshed, as corruption sets in, and corruption will win
Strengthened by numbers made bestial by time, the mortals shall bleed at the feet of their kind
Adaptive Biology,
Adaptive Biology,
Adaptive Biology
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3. |
The Flayed Man
04:58
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Sexual predator, becoming prey
From neck to lower back the dagger will fillet,
Grotesque dismemberment, which we condone
A putrid fucking king tied naked to the throne
Your veins laid bare uncovered, bait the consciousness devoid, your regal fortitude is stretched and anchored to the floor
To each his eyelids bless a nail, nullify attempts to rest, I hope you like the taste of your own putrid fucking flesh
You've reached the seventh day,
I make the seventh cut,
This time your life is mine,
I stab and twist and gut
Grind it away, grind it away
Grind it away, grind it away
He opens his mouth, accepting defeat
Now grant him a taste of his bone ridden meat
Primal discomfort in forced mastication,
Die by my hand while you choke on your own
The tendons weak from post-starvation tear so easy from the arms, I bind, I break, I will seize your morbid charm,
Inflicting massive trauma, I will find your breaking point, force-feed, his flesh, with blood and pus anoint
You are the main course in this grotesque display of gluttony
Open your mouth consume yourself
You've reached the 7th day,
I make the 7th cut
This time your life is mine,
I stab and twist and gut
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4. |
Bog Witch
06:25
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Where the wind meets the waves,
and the waves meet the bog,
Decrepit, Infested,
Unsung by the gods
Where the wretched lies slayn,
and the lake turns to mud,
entombed is her ghost for this witch shed no blood in her death
Oh mother of curses so foul,
Ordain your gaze in the owls, and the frogs, in the creatures of the bog;
for all who enter shall be known
The sleepless eyes of a thousand pines,
Remain above her throne, and so it is known:
In the realm of the bog witch, where the sun begs not to wade
Lies a body unseen, with her skin splitting at its seams
In the realm of the bog witch
For those who dare to enter, comes death of horrid sorts, swiftly bound, dragged underground, by roots of forest floor
Enter through the marshland, and meet your fate aswell, for mud of seeming endless weight will take it's grasp and drag you down to hell
Her veins creep under the mantle, of a grove of sickly brush, through the mudend ground her soul is bound, it all dawns the grace of her touch
Behold the realm of the bog witch, where the sun begs not to wain
Though dead she may seem, with the dead she will never be
In the realm of the bog witch
Now that you're
Six feet below, in the dark and unknown, thrashing and gasping in desperate throws
A fool, leaving his fate to this
Now as the vines grip your limbs and the mud fills your lungs your asphyxiation was only the start, as the bog starts to consume, starts to consume
You never should have come
In the realm of the bog witch, where the sun begs not to wade
In the realm of the bog witch
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