Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Abortion

Care for a little

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

Dub me Abortion, the living dead
The bonesaw on the
On this bitter night of giving
A sharp rear entry, an in red
Lump in the throat, on my choke
The killing joke worn thin with

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

Aah! grows now times nine or ten
Within this vice den called a
Dying resurrection I dig deep to again
The of orgasm on a roll

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

my years on an Abacus strung
With labial rings and undone

Dub me Abortion, the living dead
The on the backseat
On this bitter of giving head
A sharp entry, an exit in red
Lump in the throat, on my come
The joke worn thin with breath

Horror scopes my
A part so far psychodrama
chained I mean to harm Her
Inside as as out

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

Now I slither the hairline cracks
In sanity, watch your back
Possessed with levering gates wide
Liberating knives to cut slack

My ambition is to slay
A in the hands of a dirty God
Who me prey, a Gilles De Rais
Of light faith leads truth astray

I slit and free the moistest faces
Corrupt the corpse and seize the pieces
Her alabaster that dim the lit carnal grin
Vaginal to later taste and masturbate within

My heart was a beat 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 blurred or reason till I was fulfilled

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

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

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

The suspect shadow they least
Expect my grasp to reach
The stranglehold, the opened
Seeking sweet meat with no holes

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

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