Epicurean Entrails

The sword in hand's not yet to be in the ground...

For at the darkest hour, a man may cry out

Seven tormenting spirits

To be breathed into him...

The black abominations of elusive kinds

Heads hung in death... Spilling blood for their dead

Incinerate the soul to die temporarily..

Betrayed torture for a life of recovery

Now I begin the quest I was born for...

Ridding the world of those pigmented abortion babies

Fetal infections transplants the foul wastes...

Lift the eyelids to inject this antidote... Only to...

Live though a slow and painful demise

Reason from the corroded arteries

Seeps from the bubbling skin...

This vagina is a thing to be tortured...

Rat droppings enclose the orifice

Seven tormenting spirits

To be breathed into him

God's purist creatures I've hung and eaten...

To reproduce their meat. Alive

... We rejoiced for a ceremonial reunion

Where we'll eat and feast on an array of our departed's entrails

Grant me the delight of necrofucking

My departed followers... They were my companions to the traveling...

I am taken to the deepest corners of the earth...

Spare us when Thee will rise to the earth