Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Abortion

Care for a little

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

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 killing joke worn thin with

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

Aah! Nostalgia grows now nine or ten
Within vice den called a soul
resurrection I dig deep to come again
The spasm of on a roll

I live the serrated rape, the bucks fizz of Amyl Nitrate
Victims force fed their own face, tear upon the drape
I should compare them, to a warm day
But to the letter, it is better to liken their names to a

my years on an Abacus strung
With rings and heartstrings undone

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

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

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

Now I through the hairline cracks
In sanity, best your back
Possessed with Hell's gates wide
knives to cut humanity slack

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

I slit guts and free the faces
Corrupt the and seize the choicest pieces
Her alabaster limbs that dim the lit grin
Vaginal skin to taste and masturbate within

My heart was a wardrum beat by Jugular in Eerie Jungle vaults
When number thirteen fell in my lap lips and like sin
A Venus Mantrap my appetite whetted, 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 light in my
Her face an of pearl, of ruby wine

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

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

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

Rainbows that my razors
her screams and seams undone
Sung at the top of punctured
I bite my tongue

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