| Awoke with a vicious grin in the phallus entrance
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| Hard from the mother’s cries
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| Your infants hands are gripping flesh
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| Dying sweating storms, writhing on a gurney
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| Dreams of pleasure burning off in sheets
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| No time to sedate, this harlot must be seen at once
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| Protrusions rising from the skin
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| Underneath her gut are wearing thin
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| Now as your belly is split apart
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| A voice begins to whisper, «I have come for the light»
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| Arisen in shame, shrouded in filth
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| His starry eyes meet hers
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| I was borne by the sperent’s spleen
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| In the bearing queen
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| I was borne by the sepent’s spleen
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| Carried in the bearing queen
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| What a sultry wold god hath created
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| Showered with our pensions never earned
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| What a sultry wold god hath created
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| Showered with our pensions never earned
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| Fire rains down from the north
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| Carrying plagues and shedding skins
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| And thus the beast will lead his minions
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| Throughout the seas, covering all of the lands
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| He’s got the world in his hands
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| Solace is all that he is seeking
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| Provisions nourishing the son of fallen kings
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| Atop of the highest tower in hell
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| Solace is all that he is seeking
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| One of these days you’ll make it through
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| Without gouging your eyes out at my sight
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| Awoke with a vicious grin, I am the son |