Misfortune Lyrics
Like cattle to the slaughter, he lures them to their deathMorbid thoughts fill twisted mind, a crave for tearing flesh.Friendly face, a lollipop.He traps them after schoolFlat-chested, pretty six-year-old, the type that makes him drool.Lubricates his vile tool, child tied to the bedRams his rod, the pelvis snaps, sheets stained brown and red(Ch)Frustration tears his mind apartThe pain in his brain- Making him insane-His tool shed hosts a magnitude of corpses torn and scatteredBloodied meat strewn on the floor from bodies slashed and tattered.Sickened brain, repulsive lusts, feeble bodies torn apartFinger paints, with body fluids, disgusting abstract art.Stark staring mad, re-enacting horrid dreamsHorrors of his mind-made realityMore than flesh and blood can bear, raging uncontrolledFeeble heartbeat drifts away, corpse lies still and cold.
Abramelin Misfortune
