[music - Andrew LaBarre]   [lyrics - Ross Sewage]      A liturgist in the realm of filth and gore   Augean bard of æsculapian deviance   Fables I've made, sick stories I've parlayed   For the rapt attention of my heinous      Despised rottrephile, the object of my infection   A gore hound obsessed with the extreme and obscene   In manic obesciance, I pledge my devotion   Composing sonnets of horror for my ghoul fiend      Penny dreadfuls are met apathetically   Asomatous, they are mere words   For a worthy offering I need tangible death   The pen has proved fallible to the might of the swords      For my Bathorial maiden, I'll kill and maim   For our victims, the future proves bleak   I'll slice throats in her bloody name   Rending other's flesh that in me is so weak      Excisions and slices and cuts to their integument   My finesse with cutlery, she doth inspire   Collecting a bouquet of offal, my regiment   Trophies to admire      Dislimbed torsos and severed craniums   Disinterred innards and human chum   Though I present this sanguine tribute   It's never enough and still I'm rebuked      A grandiose gesture, I require for a petulent madamned   Gutted, my entrails will be preserved in canopic vials   Formaldehyde and alcohol are meted into jars   Lacerating extremities, a fitting end to these trials      Incised omentum, avulsed intestines   Abdominal evisceration, self-dissection      Mellifluent gore is met with ennui   My tragic reward is naught but death's kiss   Consciousness falters as blood flows from my head   Lay me down to die, nothing is better than this