In Godly Flesh
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
Dead people in your body bags Rotten prepared for the ritual Rancide meat dripping of liquefied flesh Ideal material for the sacrifice On your altar built of gave stones and human bones Intercourse whith purulent remains Ejaculate to spice the gift Plastic bag full of genitals Severed to pleased your carnal god The altar What ambition drives the mortal But ambition itself Your ambition is to kill For your own god Ruptured giblets full of flies Decomposed parts upon the altar Purified but only when putrified You feed your god, through your mouth Miko "lead" The altar of angel fallen You live for it, and it lives through you Twisted religion based on pus and blood To please the insane god of putridity
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026
Combustion, feel it's advance Rotting your body, there's no recovery Fluids and liquids gush down your severed veins Still running, as convulsions rip your body apart Exudate bursting from infected wounds Scavengers, maggots and vericose worms Despoiling your corpse feeding form it Sight's still unaffected, see new batches hatch Your body, your temple... in disgrace Casket of oak, holding your corpse inside Excrement spoiling your funeral suit Emotional chaos, as brain melts away Deteriorated by viral disease Rotting away! Combustion... Scattered body, but wind's still present Question awakens! How dead the dead really are? Rotting away!
Submitted by Pestilence — Jul 21, 2026
In dark voids of my mind, illusions haunted me They sang to me in tongues, about things beyond death's realm Painless and bloodless, lies a dissected corpse before me Weeping no speaking of warped ways meant not to man Testing the dark fire, it burns me, but freezes my soul Lost and damned, I pray upon you... Yog-Sothoth, the gate and the key Unleash my soulself now, into a whirlpool I drown. Shub-Niggurath, the gost of the woods Grant me a spawn of hate to be a seal of my fate Tsathoggua: "Formless you'll be", Taddith have mercy on me. Shaggal, will punish all of thee Ancient gods, the arcane hate Taught me the ways of sight, all the malevolent Darken, thy ways, twisted soul, so foul Faith inborn, dismal to unknown Desolate and cursed is the path of your morbid thoughts Shattered in dust, pale remains of you The dead manifest is tortured forms of flesh Naked and blinded in fall upon their feet Knowledge forsaken in fear for my life Rotting choir chests in dry, dusty voices... Yog-Sothoth, the gate an the key... all the malevolent My psyche torn apart and soul fed to the goat Dismembered of all hope, in a lake of blood I float
Submitted by Pestilence — Jul 21, 2026