Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Abortion

Care for a little

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

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

I up on the sluts bastard Father beat blue
Keepsake cunts cut full out easing through

Aah! Nostalgia now times nine or ten
this vice den called a soul
Dying resurrection I dig to come again
The of orgasm on a roll

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

my years on an Abacus strung
With labial rings and heartstrings

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

Horror my diorama
A twelve part so far
Another chained I mean to Her
as well as out

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

Now I slither through the cracks
In sanity, watch your back
Possessed levering Hell's gates wide
Liberating knives to cut humanity

My is to slay Anon
A sinner in the of a dirty God
Who me prey, a Gilles De Rais
Of light where leads truth astray

I slit guts and free the moistest
Corrupt the corpse and seize the pieces
Her alabaster limbs that dim the lit grin
skin to later taste and masturbate within

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

d'oeuvres eaten, I tucked her into
A grave fit for the Queen of Spades
She went out like the in my mind
Her face an of pearl, of ruby wine

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

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

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

Rainbows that my wrung
Midst her screams and seams
at the top of punctured lungs
I my spiteful tongue

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