Rite I : MOTH, OH MOTH
RITE I
Oh The Fearful Blooms of Cinder,
Beseech the Power of The Blade,
Damn The Fragile Marrow,
Dance with The Flame of Lust...
Fuck The Womb of The Cursed.
Cut The Soul of The Moth,
Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,
Grasp The Breast of The beast,
Free the Soul from Pain,
Dance in the pot of Flame,
Fuck in the pot of Flame.
Fuck in the pot of Flame.
Gorge on the Afterbirth of Gods.
Strangle the Prayer in the Throat,
Milk the Venom from the Wound,
Sodomize the Shadow of the Throne.
Drown the Saint in his own Hot Piss,
Rip the Tongue for a Silent Kiss,
Skin the Sky, Bleed the Moon,
Moth, Oh Moth, Bleach the Loom,
The Womb is a Tomb,
The Bride is a Loon,
Moth, Oh Moth, find the Pyre,
Cum in the Ash of the World on Fire.
Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,
Burn your wings on the Sun,
Dust to dust, the web is spun,
Dust to dust, the web is spun,
Lay your eggs in the Casket,
Feed the grubs on the Ghost,
To the Flame, we are kindling,
To the Dark, we are host,
Shackle the Ghost to the Meat,
Tear the Silver from the Vein,
Piss on the Altar of the Flayed,
Rape the Logic of the Sane.
Suck the Marrow from the Sun,
While the Bastard Stars all weep,
The Rose Order is a Corpse,
And the Maggots burrow deep,
Moth, Oh Moth, the Wick is Bone,
Burn the Sight from Sightless Eyes,
Mount the Beast of the Ruined Dawn,
Beneath the Weight of the Clotted Skies,
Vomit the Soul into the Dirt,
Birth a Terror from the Scab,
Take the Blade of the Fallen Saint,
Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,
And Stab, and Stab, and Stab.
Wallow in the Guts of the Grace,
Smear the Seed on the Brow,
The Church is a Kennel for the Blind,
And the Beasts are Feasting now,
Drink the Menstrual Blood of Stars,
Breed the Nightmare in the Lung,
Speak the Word that Ends the World,
With a Black and Severed Tongue,
Peel the Scalp of the Ancient One,
Nail the Shadow to the Floor,
The Virgin is a Vessel for the Void,
And the Void is a Raging Whore.
Crack the Ribs of the Universe,
Strip the Spirit of its Skin,
The Only Law is the Primal Itch,
The Only Truth is the Sin,
Moth, Oh Moth, the Fire is Dead,
But the Cinders still Crave the Heat,
Grind the Teeth of the Dying Gods,
Into the Dust beneath your Feet,
The Flame is Out, The Womb is Dry,
The Moth has Burned its Eyes,
Moth, Oh Moth, Oh Moth,
Now Fuck the Dark until it Screams.
And the Last of the Silence Dies...
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