Lord Abortion lyrics

"Care for a little necrophilia? Hmm?"

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 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 (so far) 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 guts and free the moistest faces

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 wardrum beat

By jugular cults in eerie jungle vaults

When number thirteen fell in My lap

Lips and skin like sin, a Venus Mantrap

My appetite whetted, storm crows wheeled

At the blurred edges or reason 'til 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

Aah, aah, ahh, I'll let you sleep when I am through..."

"You Fucking Whore!"

The suspect shadow sher 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, bloodloss, despair

I weep, they merely stare...

And stare, and stare, and stare, and stare.