Guest
Lord abortion By Cradle Of Filth .... I was born with a birthmark of cinders Debris cast from the stars and Mother A ring of bright slaughter, I spat in the waters Of life that ran slick from the stabwounds in Her Dub Me Lord Abortion, the living dead The bonesaw on the backseat On this bitter night of giving head A sharp rear entry, an exit in red Lump in the throat, on my come choke The killing joke worn thin with breath I grew up on the sluts bastard Father beat blue Keepsake cunts cut full out easing puberty through Aah! Nostalgia grows Now times nine or ten Within this vice den called a soul Dying from resurrection I dig deep to come again The spasm of orgasm on a roll... I live the slow serrated rape The bucks fizz of amyl nitrate Victims force fed their own face Tear stains upon the drape I should compare them To a warm Summer's day But to the letter, it is better To
