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2. |
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The House Perversia Burned
We followed in the shadow of Perversia’s lust;
just for a taste of what she had to offer.
The witch-nymph wears female flesh to perfection;
The scent of her musk is a spell-
We would kill for her and we do.
There were more than a dozen living at the farm house;
one man with three wives and many a daughter to fuck
as he pleased.
But all the females chose to stay on the farm
because they believed the man was a prophet-
the voice of their god he self-proclaimed-
“This will not be in my woodland”, Perversia said.
So she sent my brother and I to cleanse the farm.
One Moonless Night, we took the family by surprise;
We strapped the man down on the dining table.
We tied his concubine family to the chairs around the bound prophet.
Perversia moves with such feline grace
as when she leapt upon the table to berate the flock of sluts.
She then moved her bowels; leaving shit on the man’s face and chest.
With her large knife, she severed the prophet’s twig and berries;
and she force fed a piece of cock and testes to each bitch.
Come Night fall my brother and I bathed the retching, screaming females
in unholy gasoline; anointing the wooden walls of the farm house.
By the light of the inferno,
Perversia fucked my brother and I to death.
She then brought us back to the living
for the thirteenth time . . .
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3. |
My Sophilia
02:24
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My Sophilia
I love the stench; it’s all that I crave.
Her clothes come off; I wait ‘til she bathes.
I gather up her dirty clothes and lay with them upon our bed;
I grab my cock and masturbate
with her sweaty thong wrapped ‘round my head . . .
As time goes on, my Lust grows darker . . .
I crave the smell of one who’s just died . . .
I just killed a pretty hooker; she pissed and shit the bed.
I grab my cock and masturbate,
her soiled thong wrapped ‘round my head . . .
And time goes on; I’ve grown much, much darker.
I must have the smell day in and day out . . .
I tried to kill my dear Sophilia,
but she managed to get away and hide;
she took a part of me with her,
so I had to put her dirty thong in the hole of my right eye.
The day comes to an end; our house is alive with shadows;
I can smell her blood, and the sweat of her fear.
I found her where she crawled to die.
Now every day I can dress her corpse,
then grab my cock and masturbate.
The odor of her final bowel release is caked in her thong;
and it’s wrapped tight about my face . . .
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4. |
Eve Swallows All
02:58
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Eve Swallows All
All Hallows Eve’, the one night of the year
when children dress in costumes of gentle fantasy and horror-
they knock on doors and say “trick or treat” and are rewarded with candy.
I’ve heard a gate (of the nine worlds) was opened by a drug-fueled lunatic
and that by this time next year, the demons and ghouls of nightmare
will be here . . . in this world . . .
Trick or treat they’ll cut off your feet;
you’ll be something good to eat.
Trick or treat they’ll cut your throat
and drain all your blood and they will drink it.
Trick or treat they’ll hammer nails into
your face, torso and rectum; they tear off your skin
and feed it to you in strips and pieces . . .
All Hallows Eve, next year will be the darkest day of them all.
When the demon dead come knocking- they won’t be trick or treating;
if you’re stupid and open up your door, it is you that they’ll be eating!
Trick or treat they’ll cut off your feet;
you’ll be something good to eat.
Trick or treat they will cut off your face
and flatten your body like a tube of tooth-paste.
And they will wear your face while they destroy your loved ones
because Eve Swallows All . . . !
And Lilith is laughing . . .
because Eve swallows all . . .
And Lilith is laughing . . .
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5. |
Of Grave Concern
01:52
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Of Grave Concern
I am not alone in the dark;
unseen things creep and slide about my skin.
I was dead before Death could claim me;
I pretend to breathe the rank air around me . . .
I wait for the young ones to come to the graveyard
and worship their devil, as they get drunk, high, and laid . . .
And I rise from a vaporous grave,
unseen by the fools masquerade.
I am the lurker-ghoul! Death cannot claim these!
I tear and drink and rape the human meat . . .
I crawl back to my tomb that is home;
sated but a fortnight, no more.
And I’m euphoric from the blood of the young humans.
My carnal rapacity spent, I fall into deep slumber . . .
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6. |
The Dark
01:43
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7. |
Lurid Carousel
03:47
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Lurid Carousel
I heard the music;
it was coming from the forbidden field.
It is said that the place is home
to witches that fuck demon freaks-
and the dead hang as fruit from an ancient tree . . .
Stories told to scare little children
for how could this fucking be?
When coming from a far off distance-
I can hear the strains of a calliope . . .
I left my truck by the side of the road;
the lights and noise are distant.
As I walk the fog grows so thick
I can barely see.
It’d been half an hour surely I was there-
where must everyone be?
But no more voices and no more lights-
only the music of the calliope-
sounding warped and octaves lower-
then silence . . .
I had stopped walking and seemed to turn to ice;
chills coursed along my spine and arms.
Something big moved slowly-
a redundant mechanical sound.
The fog then parted enough for me to see . . .
A dark carousel- lurid in décor;
perverse and inhumane for all intent and purpose.
There were no painted horses
or lavish seats to ride-
Only the dead bodies of men,
women and children impaled on steel poles . . .
Bodies torn and twisted and put back together in ways so foul . . .
If I had lived I’d have surely gone mad . . .
Now I hang from the tree and I know why . . .
My body is dead but my mind is still alive!
Shut the fuck up- I tell myself-
I’ve heard this all before.
What’s left to tell?
Better to hang as living dead fruit than be
living in death on the lurid carousel . . .
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8. |
Vermin Maul
03:14
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Vermin Maul
Born of a vagina filled with rotted teeth,
he was abused by his mother as he suckled on her teats.
When his father tried to rape him, he bit the drunkards cock off.
His mother tried to kill him but the boy wouldn’t die.
When Vermin was 12, he raped his sleeping mother.
He brutalized her rectum ’til he tore into her womb.
He wiped the shit and blood off his cock on her face.
Then he twisted and pulled on her head for hours ‘til it left her neck.
Vermin Maul is an old man now.
He dwells in the same log cabin deep in Darkland woods.
He’s mean to all especially children
and he does things no human should.
But for the right price, ol’ Vermin will do things no sane human could.
So I’m on my way to see him with plenty of cash in hand.
You see, my wife’s been fucking everyone
and that I cannot stand.
Vermin Maul has done things that no sane human should;
Vermin Maul will do things that no sane human could.
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9. |
The Autumn Dolls
03:48
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The Autumn Dolls
New children came to play in the shade
of the immense old tree;
They tried to climb the aged bark
of its massive trunk.
And they gazed ever upward into the dark miasma
of wicked branches-
not able to see the things
that looked back at them . . .
Being children, they never questioned
why the large tree stood alone
in a flat field miles wide-
with nothing else around . . .
The two boys and two girls sat upon
the trees gnarled roots as they planned
to build a tree house in
the bole of the tree . . .
As the Sun began its descent,
the children made to leave-
when one of the girls found something buried
in the dirt around the roots.
Two porcelain dolls near as tall as the children-
the girls decided to keep them . . .
It was a very long walk back to the farm
and the dolls grew bored.
They cracked open their porcelain shells
as the music of screams began to play . . .
One of the black-veined things
ran the boys down;
It dragged them in circles on their bellies for hours-
until their guts dragged the dirt . . .
The other doll took the girls- kicking and screaming-
back to the tree;
the girls were rubbed raw against the knuckled roots;
they were then taken up into the branches to be cut and sewn . . .
The Autumn Dolls wore the skins of the boys
as they headed off to the farm-
where they would harvest the living-
to hang as dead fruit
from the limbs of the Corpse Tree . . .
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10. |
The Corpse Tree
02:19
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The Corpse Tree
We were sitting in a circle beneath the Corpse Tree;
our parents dried remains hanging above us.
When we looked to the Northern sky it was dark;
and for now the wind brings rain . . .
We ate our dog and drank of the cow’s milk and blood;
and the pigs we let free to roam in hopes they would find
mates among man . . .
We stood in a circle with our feet buried in cement;
the Pentagrams cycle is now complete.
We wait to see what the tornado brings . . .
We are sitting in a circle where the Corpse Tree once stood;
some of us are sitting because we have no feet
and some of us are dead.
And as I look to the Southern sky-
I scrape a knife against the cartilage of my nose
wondering who else the darkness has consumed
and wishing for the return of the Corpse Tree . . .
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Feral Viscera Phoenix, Arizona
PhilH is the former guitarist/songwriter for Nuclear Death. Along side Feral Viscera, is theband Whorror. These two bands make up The Nuclear Death Cult. Visit the website wnevilminds.wixsite.com/nucleardeathcult
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