| Rake the vice in florin shordo
|
| Boiling innards recompense
|
| Lighting yards incinerating
|
| Frying cheeks in sloring vats
|
| Shear its back and throbbing pack
|
| The goggle Lord will show its law
|
| Rake the gantry larding sist
|
| Organ splitter like a fist
|
| Blowing death and spitting coals
|
| Carving goodness out of souls
|
| The organ splitters evil grace
|
| Comes shooting out its filthy face
|
| Bile sheens and boils belch
|
| Rot will thicken, boggle filch
|
| Soring vats are spilling over
|
| Flooding through the goggles realm
|
| Lucifer may seem the stronger
|
| Organ splitter getting longer
|
| Cheeks are red and pack erection
|
| Wicked muscles shoot ejection
|
| {Okay let’s see, that’s one of those square records
|
| Eh that goes on a record player that like goes on its side
|
| No that’s an EP from some British new wave band
|
| Take off, you dude, you don’t know}
|
| {Yeah they bootleg those, eh
|
| What you doin'?
|
| Sounds like a British new wave band
|
| Yeah, beauty sound
|
| Beauty
|
| Not my style of music though}
|
| Meat upon the pentagram
|
| Bloody necrophiliac phlegm
|
| Pus is furry, pus is good
|
| Pus will fill the dirty wound
|
| Eat your beets and double hog husk
|
| Man odor smells like oily musk
|
| Goose bumps raised on prickly thighs
|
| Florin shordo says surprise
|
| Pussy discharge speaks the truth
|
| Josh Allen’s bad and So’s Paul booth
|
| Marrow cracks and tissue flies
|
| The goggle lord will use his eyes
|
| Glowing light upon his head
|
| Burgalveist will make you dead
|
| Goggle comes his blood is red
|
| And flaming like the head of set
|
| Blowing death and spitting coals
|
| Carving goodness out of souls
|
| The organ splitters evil grace
|
| Comes shooting out its filth face |