Vespertine Decay

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 flavour 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 insantiy - 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