| On the outskirts of town
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| Heard the townsmen a curious and terrifying sound
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| As they crept forth to see
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| A gacked out Fermentor, Cremator and me
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| We surrounded them axes in hand
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| They’d do nicely chopped up in the meal we had planned
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| At the front of the crowd cried a priest
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| «Look away! |
| It’s unholy, it’s ghastly, it’s a…»
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| Blood Feast!
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| Blood Feast!
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| As the townspeople panicked and fled
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| Fermentor got a sickening idea in his head
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| In the mood for some dubious snacks
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| He splintered their skulls with a swing of his axe
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| We siphoned some petrol from a car
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| And the orphanage was turned into a flaming abattoir
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| Tiny skeletons radiating heat
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| Young flesh is the best when it’s eaten at a…
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| Blood Feast!
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| Blood Feast!
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| First course: Liver filet
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| Served with a garnish of maggot puree
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| Second course: Brain tumour stew
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| Bubbling away in a mucous ragout
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| Third course: The haunch of a child
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| Cooked to perfection, spicy or mild
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| Fourth course: Mellified lumps
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| Syrupy crustulant putrefied clumps
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| Fifth course: A sputum soup
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| Presented cold, a nasally goop
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| Sixth course: a plate of headcheese
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| With eyeballs and tongues, seasoned to please
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| Seventh course: bloody rump roast
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| The asses garnished with fingers and toes
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| Eight course: ovum soufflé
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| Baked to perfection, full of decay
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| Lazily licking at a stump
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| Sticky high fives as the bodies were dumped
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| Crawling on the ground like slugs
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| Bloated with meat and a mountain of drugs
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| Suddenly a net was released
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| Dragged off in chains by the Secret Police
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| In the belly of the beast
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| Locked in a cage like the victim of a…
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| Blood Feast!
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| Blood Feast! |