Dusk Woerot: Chapter III

Torture the flesh with spines
Upon the rack
Then vehemently vanguish the existence
Under a dark coffin
And from the miasmatical impurity
The curst-burnt offering
Shall suppurate a flithy stench of pain

Thou art woerot, what dwells within
Wrath forever, defaced and flaming
Ghastly foetus entangled on me
Doomed and evilers on the
Insanity's domain
Hail Death
Ave Dusk Woerot!!

Grovel into the entrails
Of the regrettable havor
Woerot the unholy woe has been prone
Under the coldest, vilapidated coffin
To celebrate the gloomiest funeral wooing
Ancient ceremony darkened
By the stinl of exhumation
And beyond the epitaph an obsequies
Turn chant and rite
Below death and vereavement of flesh
Where the emaciated souls
Eternally dwell in dreariness
Because that woe shall always
Be mourning and shade
When thy falling comes:
Ave Dusk Woerot!

And when those devious paths
May ensanguine thy flagitious existence
Thou shall exhume the egegious funeral
As the ingrowing pain would be
Inflicted upon us
Where the inquity has crowled
It's almost ghoul
And where we suffer, perpetually
Ourselves scars...
Thus the mournful soul tears the furtive sob
When lightness locerates it's kibosh
And your rabies and your chaos want torture
The tragedian warpoem
The shadow fields of vitterly unheard
Hail Death
Ave Dusk Woerot!