Blasphemy Made Flesh

Defenestration

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Oh what a gal!
She seems such a perfect victim:
This I can tell, for if beauty by guilt,
she's guilty 

Ordinarily,
I'd not wish to frighten her or hurt her,
But such beauty inspires one 
to give the gift of murder 

She's the kind of girl you want to
run up and tackle through a window some floors up
and spatter you both to hell

«Come and get it;
your stuffed bunny's at the window, 
But not that far out... 
Reach little one! Reach!...» 

Tantalized a child is want to
take a ill-considered
course of action; such is life: 
is experience not bitter? 

Leaning too far
out the open attic casement window, 
baby plummets 
to a messy death not so far below 

Rend your flesh to ribbons
on shards of broken glass, 
fading screams and abruptly: 

Defenestration 


Abigor

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

O most luscious cenobite,
you wield your whip
as though it were another appendage; 
Favor me with pleasure-pain,
rip me with your claws 
Chew me with your saw-toothed cunt 

Dead eyes alive with darkness to match their sockets, 
they blaze with unmatched cruelty 
Leave those long thorns embedded in your scalp, 
They look stuck in far enough to hurt 

Hell's polyhedron has blessed you
Your peerless beauty drips of sin 
In this time of configuration, 
blessed order shall prevail 
Two sides to the war on flesh 
Leviathan, who can't smile, beams 

Encased in leather as it is, 
I can't drink from your neck 
It shall remain its soft, cold, blue-white: 
I'll bind your pround breasts with barbed wire 
I wish to partake of their nectar... Is it pus? 

I might breach your zippers 
and open your face 
I might gag you with an urchin 
I long to hear a quiet sight escape 
your lovely lips as I bite your fettered, smooth thighs 

Love subverted, lust perverted 
Bitch-goddess Abigor´s pretty face
can mask her suffering 
Make you worship both her and her needles 

Subjugate it, perforate it, 
flesh reordered isflesh of use 
I now rededicate my life 
to what Abigor has shown me 


Open Face Surgery

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

I've learned to control my thoughts
ever since I recognized the first eavesdropper: 
those who listen in on my thoughts, 
my logic, my sanity

I cannot let them know I don't know
the verses, or converse in my head: 
lash out at future foes,
banter with friends I've not yet met 

The psychoaggressive minions of
your lord mock with laugher I can't hear, 
with hidden scowls they admonish me 

Nothing's sacred, Nothing's safe: 
your filthy god is omnipresent,
this undying nonentity that haunts
my every waking dream

They watch me, his mortal flock, 
they know me now by sight alone: 
my thoughts are too well concealed... 
Yet I sense more scrutiny

Fleeting lucidity's too loud for me, 
let me be my silent self:
our existences irreconciled

Make them stop! I'm rotting fast...
The answer, painful though it may be, 
is change

Alter my outer shell...
The listener's may not, then, know it's me
Open Face Surgery: short of pain
and long on masquerade
Ounce by ounce, lose a little weight
nip here, tuck there... So who needs eyelids?

Serial Messiah

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Something's come over me... I can't bear to see you live
Between lies, between sins that bespeak iniquity 

I just want to hold your pretty hand 
The rest of you can be dissolved in acid 
I just want to hold your pretty hand 

Purified of their sins, fornicators will be purged
Breath of god: wind of change
I ride, (and) you will meet your death... whore

I just want to hold your pretty hand
The rest of you can be dissolved in acid 
You've payed for this death with all your sin. Die. 


Born Headless

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

You're not emoting: 
one of us will have to dig deeper; 
These are my cheek nails: 
Penetration, though unclean, 
can make you bleed 
in so many interesting ways;
I rend your flesh and caress your fears 
as you weep

Human tragedy... 
Let this be a lesson to you, it's symbolic 
Let this dirt define your grave

Midmortemtorment, 
ornament of dandling flesh; 
Why do you vomit? 
You should have seen the last one I did:
I chewed it to a paste and spit it out 
when I was done, yet the gummy taste 
of anus still smothers my tongue 

Girth control, to me, is considered an art; 
Fat's fully excised as I tear you apart;
my maleficence is as deep aas it can get: 
I derive enjoyment from cruel torture
and messy death 

I tear your legs from their sockets 
to ease my pilfering of your pockets 
Better for you if you'd been born headless 
Blame your mother you weren't born headless 

Now that it's over, you'll be remembered,
but not missed, swathed in cerements 
to keep in the precious cold

I turn and pass away in violence an gunfire; 
the earth soaks up my brain...
I see myself as I've been 

I see myself 


Swine of the Cross

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Man-made doom bled death from the sky; 
to all but a few, salvation was denied 
«Heavenly father, son and holy ghost,
save your servants (those of us who aren't toast)» 

The not-yet-dead discovered that to be 
a nuclear family means a whole new thing; 
All-too-trusting shambling pseudomorphs 
put their trust in a man of the cloth 

Make them hate you, rotting cleric...
Remember, you are pu of my loins, you are pus 

Give voice to your left side, let me in:
I've sawn the seeds of your redemption;
In subhumanicide, I am your guide:
seventy-seven times make them die

The sun is shining on a brand new day
Blackened corpses smolder where they slain;
Self-flagellation prompts him to confess:
«Bless me father, for I made this mess» 

Immolation meant to purify sin wracked souls 
Let diseased bodies die; survivors twice lost: 
Betrayed in fire, by the Swine of the Cross 


Gravaged (A Cryptopsy) 

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Ungentle exhumation
Must be thorough, remove it all 
Catalogue every part, 
Then rape them and eat them 

How dare them bury 
what should be mine 
My dead companions 
on which I dine 

Penetrate the dead hole 
Please, O lord, just let it smell 
and let mankind's puniverse 
be befouled just for me 

My graveside manner
lacks no finesse 
These ravaged bodies 
betray no distress 

As I tear apart the dead things
I annoint them with my seed 
and gain new insights into death 
with their consumption 
Yet I wonder, 
«What if I were something dead?»

Somewhere there's a graveyard of ghouls
with a massive headstone 
that waits just for me; 
Maybe someday 
Someone will come

Memories of Blood 

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

I awake remembering
nothing the next day, 
my nostrils assailed 
by the stench of decay 
Dreams of dismemberment, 
fantasies of torture 
Mopping up affords me a 
reminiscense of death; 
Gooey bits and pieces 
are all that is left 

Stench of rot: uplifting smell
Someone's dead or at least unwell; 
What little is left smells impure; 
Who did this? I'm not sure 

No conscience interferes with 
my memories of blood; 
PSI energy remains 
where a human once stood;
I equate its suffering with 
the longevity of a ghost 
Who lasts the longest 
is who suffered the most 

Mutant Christ 

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Abobinated, tiny god of mine
Overseeing my rest, my lust, my life 

Torched in hatred 
Loved in Horror sublime 
Almost formless 
Darkened, and yet you shine 

You made me in your image 
I deformed yours into mine 
Now we're even, O loving god 
Equals in my melting eyes 

Mutant christ, loving christ 
Know me with thine naked eyes 
Holy christ, one tenth the size 
So unlike the other christs 

God-made man (with) 
man-made god to adore
Idolatry?
My faith has been restored

Gaze upon me
Bless me, lord, or die 
I'll find another little lord to fry 

You baked me in this image
so I burned yours into mine 
Eye for eye and tooth for tooth 
I love you now, O twisted christ 

Mutant Christ 


Pathological Frolic 

Lyrics by Lord Worm
Cryptopsy - Blasphemy Made Flesh - 1994

Who is this Geoffrey?
All I see is this cold cadaver 
Why is this Geoffrey
lying in puddles of pus on a gurney? 
Tell me of this Geoffrey,
this boy with a noose around his neck; 
More about Geoffrey:
why is he wearing his mother's bra?

How old was Geoffrey? 
At a guess, I'd say
about twelve or thirteen;
He died accidentally
from auto-erotic asphyxiation; 
He'd been masturbating...
our little stiff still has one on 
and it's been one week! 

The resurrection men 
took their sweet time
Cross-dressed fruit:
what a way to die!
Now he's ours:
the apple of our eve;

Fetch the dead sphincter:
cold green meat
How did his ass taste?
Tender and sweet...

And then we fucked it...