Blessed Are The Dead Whiche Dye In Lorde

Stare wide-eyed at this dense pitch boiling by the art divine

Amniotic liquid of another kind

That flesh and blood can not inherit the kingdom of god

Behold the transformation, servant

Incise and devour your tongue for all men are liars

Gnaw at the saintly visage of your beloved

Receive a rapturous communion of flesh and skin

And do not cease until you swallowed her nose host-alike

Do not cease until the Baptist collects

Three quintessential drops, progeny of that torment,

And anoints you thrice... and anoints you thrice... and anoints you

thrice...

Like a malignant tumour and sudden growth of cancer divine

A rebirth in putrefaction irreversible, corruption does not inherit

uncorruption

Say it loud the ultimate paradigm: Blessed are the dead whiche dye in the

Lorde

The sting of death is sin and the strength of sin is the law

The law of man is His presence and dominion...

We will submit ourselves unto Him

And henceforth walk in His ways

And immolate on thine altar the spirit of individuality

As thou, Lord, desireth sacrifices and obedience

We grant you all human love, kiss the burden that crushes our bones

And yell ecstatically at the spectacle of your abominations

What rewarde shall I geve unto the lorde,

For all the benefites that he hath doen unto me?