Vespertine Decay - Aborted

At the stroke of twelve

I feel alive

I was born with the birthmark of cinders

Wreaking havoc through

The torment growing within me

Heresy, vespertine decay

Mere tools for my needs, with every inch deep

A corpus delicti of the worst kind

Necrotic excavation for erotic deformations

I was born with the birthmark of cinders

Wreaking havoc through

The torment growing within me

Depravity, vespertine decay

As the casket creaks

My morbid fascination becomes real

The flavor of dead meat, true pleasure divine

As nostalgia grows — prophecies foretold

Nourishment of perversity deep within me

A cavernous exaltation

Decency bereft, grotesqueries untold

Exquisite stench of dead flesh a perfume

A malodorous banquet

Six feet deep

My morbid fascination becomes real

Fresh cold cuts at my feet

For my pulsating meat

Cold touch, sweet lust

Thy innocence lost with every thrush

A vulgar humiliation

Sinner in the hands of a dirty god

Let me prey

As nostalgia grows — prophecies foretold

Nourishment of perversity deep within me

A cavernous exaltation

Decency bereft, grotesqueries untold

Exquisite stench of dead flesh a perfume

A malodorous banquet

Stroke of twelve

I feel alive — oh sweet vespertine decay

Morbid depravity — I worship death

Erotic insanity — faith unrestrained

Morbid depravity, embracing apathy

Erotic lunacy, with brute force

Cold touch, sweet lust

Thy innocence lost with every thrust

A vulgar humiliation

Corrupt the corpse with every breath

Heresy, without hesitation

Sinner in the hands of a dirty god

Let me prey

Sinner in the hands of a dirty god

Let me prey