Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Abortion

Care for a necrophilia

I was born with a of cinders
Debris cast the stars and Mother
A of bright slaughter, I spat in the waters
Of life that ran slick from the wounds in her

Dub me Lord Abortion, the dead
The on the backseat
On this night of giving head
A rear entry, an exit in red
Lump in the throat, on my come
The killing joke thin with breath

I grew up on the sluts Father beat blue
Keepsake cunts cut out easing puberty through

Aah! Nostalgia grows now times or ten
Within this vice den called a
Dying resurrection I dig to come again
The spasm of orgasm on a

I the slow serrated rape, the bucks fizz of Amyl Nitrate
force fed their own face, tear stains upon the drape
I should them, to a warm Summer's day
But to the letter, it is better to liken names to a grave

Counting my years on an strung
With rings and heartstrings undone

Dub me Lord Abortion, the living
The bonesaw on the
On bitter night of giving head
A sharp entry, an exit in red
Lump in the throat, on my choke
The killing worn thin with breath

scopes my diorama
A twelve part so far
Another chained I mean to Her
Inside as as out

A perverts inside the mask
I'm hard, blow my of cards
All up death, her bleeding starts
In brute parts

Now I through the hairline cracks
In sanity, best watch back
Possessed with levering gates wide
Liberating knives to cut humanity

My ambition is to Anon
A sinner in the of a dirty God
Who lets me prey, a De Rais
Of where faith leads truth astray

I guts and free the moistest faces
Corrupt the corpse and the choicest pieces
Her alabaster limbs dim the lit carnal grin
Vaginal skin to later taste and within

My heart was a wardrum by Jugular cults in Eerie Jungle vaults
number thirteen fell in my lap lips and skin like sin
A Venus Mantrap my appetite whetted, storm wheeled
At the edges or reason till I was fulfilled

Whores eaten, I tucked her into
A coffin fit for the Queen of Spades
She went out the light in my mind
Her face an of pearl, of ruby wine

Much was a flux, but the mouth once good for
Came from retirement to she had not lost her touch
I her viciously, maliciously, religiously
But when has one been to best separate the three?

I know I'm sick as Dahmer did, but this is I do
I'll let you sleep when I am through, you whore

The suspect sher they least
Expect my burning to reach
The stranglehold, the arms
Seeking sweet meat with no holes

that my razors wrung
Midst her screams and undone
Sung at the top of punctured
I my spiteful tongue

Lest spat from primal lairs
Freeze where angels, bare
Are lost to love, blood loss,
I weep, merely stare
And stare, and stare, and stare, and stare, and