Slaughter the Messenger
Destined to swing To see all To judge nothing Above the peaks of your world Beatific sight I defecate in the well of life From the swing of the Gods Daughters of men At theirs homeyards Astray and thirsty You used to be Tidy and well-dressed Now you don't have even a hat, To take off when confronted With Nephilim You're not able To entertain Our papa below If you're listening To the droning of flies When the carrion talks
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 19, 2026
Break away From this hurt of flesh To commit the acts Of cruelest violence To fall in depest of love Disciple of discipline Now dive deep down Under the chasm of life Only to return To the childhood's vomit Only to be shattered Under the heaviest form Sharp-edged cube Of all the colors Merry things inside Strip off your blood And the soiled sins within Merry things around Discover the pigtail In the pants of Your offspring.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 19, 2026
So. Is it gone ? Everything for the work All is in the work Behind the noisy Shroud of the ugly Barrels and bowle Are filled In this dusk Them salamandere creep And the scorpions At the gates of dawn
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 19, 2026