Oral eruption, rectal extroversion. Your vagus implodes as nausea strikes. Savaging your body in terminal retch. Violent spasms and decaying enzymes. .
Seductive lymphandetitis. Delectable septic metritis. Tempting glanders jaundice. For human consumption unfit. . Paltable melanosis. Aromatic mastitis.
Steel skin clips, forceps, grooved awl. Retractors, needles, gouges and saws. Intestinal clamps, blunt dissectors. Scalpels, pins, toothed directors. .
Let's go. . Your kingdom is of emptiness. Invisible empire of illusion. There's no majesty in your empty words. Your ideology, self delusion. . Revisionism is the future.
Tearing down the walls. Breaching frontiers, unlocking the gates. To a new world disorder. A fresh balance of terror, the equilibrium of hate. . Arch aid nescience unleashed.
The spirit distilled, the soul is bought.. The D.N.A. split, the virus is caught.. The germination of reproduction,. Complex patterns of genetic devolution..
That's why I find it so amusing. That the Latter-day Saints of our business. One, attribute to me motives that just weren't there. And two accuse me of corrupting morality.
Festering scabs, papillae and pores. Hardened carbuncles, spots and cold sores. Pick at the scab, septic blood starts to weep. Rip at my face, ruptured growths start to seep.
The rotting corpse lies on a mortuary slab. Pus starts to burst from each visceral scab. Body temperature drops, bone seizure takes place. As the discharge oozes from the boils on the face.
Erupted thoracic savies. Serum, pus and offal. Perspiring ulcerous chancre. Splattered on your wall. . Necro-cellular lesions. The stench of staining scabs.
Your jugular arteries ripped. Viscous juices gush and bleed. You're gutted, skinned and mangled. Enteral disorder is freed. Tour rib-cage wrenched and torn.
Miasmic fungus infests the small intestine. Vitriolic juices burn through the stomach wall. Bursting carcinosis as chylase melts your guts. Crepitating neoplasm erupts with gore....
Now can you smell the rot?. As opportunity knocks the foul stench of success. This carcass in decay, well past it's sell-by date. This time the fall comes before the pride.
(Music: Steer). (Lyrics: Walker). Don't claim to be a prophet. Don't claim to read the stars. But I can see a future. Mapped out in scars. Look to the skies.
Coughing up a mixture. Of mucus, phlegm and bile. The sordid sight of burning flesh. Your stomach is reviled. . Spew up your sanguined guts. In your wooden box.
Snorting the stench of latent effluvium. And maturing damp fumes. This foul menage forces tears to your eyes. As the corpse's gas are exhumed. . Intoxicated by foul body odors.
(Music: Walker). (Lyrics: Walker). Hands in another's pocket. The bed they make. Is not the one in which they lie. The same old faces. The same old establishment.
The lingering scirrhus begins to harden. As the insides fall prey to putrefaction. Rotting tissue turns to mush and pulp. As your mind is torn by encephalitis.
The lingering scirrhus begins to harden. As the insides fall prey to putrefaction. Rotting tissue turns to mush and pulp. As your mind is torn by encephalitis.
Sanguinary disinterment. Necrobiotic rash. Gnawing, throbbing anguish. The gullet is now mashed. . Pungent excruciation. Flesh mummified by lice. Amputated contusion.