Lyrics:
LaBarre] An aceldama littered with corpses, withered Cerebrum spills from heads hacked in twain Incarnadine shower across land scoured Quenching the sod, the blood of the slain Battles we've fought and conquests we've wrought In wholesale slaughter, embroiled Harvesting dead for our dinner spread To the victors, the fruit of the spoiled A quartet of gorelords, reigning in blood Sweetmeats are ablated in a sanguine flood Survivors of the melee are illaqueated Deigned as pabulation, impinguated Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled Flagitations have all failed Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled Tapered pikes piercing entrails Trodding down a path, beset on each side By the ganched and their horrisonant cries Astride cacuminated poles, they point the way To an arescent feast celebrating victory Heartily whiff a myriad of stenches Putrescine platters brought forth by wenches Cruor bullion, the soup do jour Into tankards, claret is poured Crapulous carousing, the de rigueur Dehiscent lungs bellow gargled parlance Supplying ambience Caitiff factions sullied our names Besieging their lands, we staked our claims With their progeny dead and women caught Now the impaled shall rot Culled from a paladin's remains The redolant guts of peditastellus slain Culinary skills are put to the test For a seven corpse meal we can't wait to ingest From on high, the beleaguered cry of suffering Stuck like pigs on acicular sticks, uncontrolled blubbering Atop gavelocks, punctured gralloch haemorrhage, therein Their final view of this motley crew eating finewed kin [solo: "Slow Death" by S.C.
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