My heart was a war drum beat
By jugular cults in eerie jungle vaults
When number thirteen fell in my lap
Lips and skin like sin, a Venus Mantrap
My appetite whetted, storm crows wheeled
At the blurred edges of reason 'til I was fulfilled
Whors d'oeuvres eaten I tucked her into
A grave coffin fit for the Queen of Spades
She went out like the light in my mind
Her face an avalach of pearl, of ruby wine
Much was a flux but the mouth once good for fucks
Came from retirement to prove she had not lost her touch
I kissed her viciously, maliciously, religiously
But when has one been able to best separate the three?

I know I'm sick as Dahmer did but this is what I do!

I'll let you sleep when I am through.


(Lord Abortion.Cradle of Filth)