Impaled lyrics
Impaled lyrics
"All That Rots lyrics"
Beautiful Eyes lyrics
(Chorus) Beautiful eyes something bout the way you look at me Is making me feel like this is a love for all time Beautiful eyes something in your eyes
(Chorus) Beautiful eyes something bout the way you look at me Is making me feel like this is a love for all time Beautiful eyes something in your eyes
(Solo: "Funerary feast on the recently deceased" by S. C. McGrath)
(Solo: "Manic Rottrephagia" L. d. Muerte)
(Solo: "Exfodiation of pus filled stiffs for total gormandization" by S. C. McGrath)
(Solo: "Exhibiting the trots from the consumption of rot" by L. d. Muerte)
Wholly rotten, your body decayed,
Your husk a decomposing organic sewer, <
Flying Angel lyrics
im an angel trying to fly but i cant im lonly then here comes someone i think im in love i can fly hay in the sky im in love im a flying angel im a sor
br>Ichor boiled, congealed, and reduced, im an angel trying to fly but i cant im lonly then here comes someone i think im in love i can fly hay in the sky im in love im a flying angel im a sor
Into a fustular mass of fertile manure
Liquid waste expelled,
With a nauseating smell,
Your innards have started to turn,
The stink makes my sinuses burn,
With intestinal fortitude I'm forced to digest,
This purulent victual with which I'm obsessed,
Greedily binging on glistening turds,
Don't Break My Heart Again lyrics
I'm gonna take it to the limit of my love, Before I turn and walk away. I've had enough of holding on The promises of yesterday. Every day of my
I'm gonna take it to the limit of my love, Before I turn and walk away. I've had enough of holding on The promises of yesterday. Every day of my
As gristle and fat form globular curds
Pulsating liver is violently excised,
Pureed, brewed, and mulled,
A gustitory treat for the mentally ill,
With which my senses are dulled,
Your kidneys are stewed and with offal imbued,
In fused with simmering gore,
Of carbonized entrails and all that is rotten,
I'm quite a connoisseur.
Out out tonight feel like going out in the night I'm gonna walk the street walk the street I wanna feel the heat feel the heat. There ain't nobody bet
A fetid tapioca is prepared in your colon,
Nauseating pudding, thickened with pus,
A genital souffle is concocted on the fly,
Post Mortem nutriment of decomposing guts,
Putrescine elixir is quaffed to kill the taste,
A most refreshing apertif,
The noxious beverage is tapped from your skull,
You're repulsively rotten beyond belief.