Album: Breeding The Spawn 
|Beginning Of Sorrow|
The beginning of sorrow has come.|
You cannot build but can destroy with what is left on earth.
Damage, now permanent, is yet enhanced day by day by unstoppable greed.
You are never truly happy unless one suffers more than yourself.
The choice is none, you will live in a world where you must fight a battle.
Some weaker, some stronger, in termination we'll die as one.
We fight amongst ourselves, enhanced by racial difference.
Our hatred never to diminish, it's just growing and growing 'till
out day of release.
We race towards the years of tribulation, where wars, plagues and
What is the antichrist?
What is it's form?
Questions still asked yet unanswered.
No need for answers, with it's arrival brings sorrow, a sorrow soon
dealt upon all.
Perhaps it's a pestilence in a form of virus spreading in it's own
Perhaps it is famine killing off millions.
Does this happen 'cause we lack enough food.
One man's greed affects others less privileged, a cruel form of
Why does this happen?
It is predestined fate not open for reason or change.
It's all been predicted, we'll die in vast numbers of a sickness
that has no known cure.
We'll play the unknowing yet all are aware tribulation is here now
|Breeding The Spawn|
Eulogy inscribed in the scrolls of humanity.|
Ancient scriptures of predicted demise.
A world encased in the womb of it's ignorance.
Extinction will be swift, relentless butchery.
The structure collapses, spewing forth mutation.
Plague bathes the earth from infected skies.
Chaotic saturation into the pores of existence.
Breeding the spawn.
Effigy awake in it's mummified region.
Silent tombs concealed from the light.
Grueling afterlife christened by their deaths.
Malignant offspring of decrepit birth.
Impurity of souls.
Visions of the agony tightly close the weeping sky.
Spirits of what will be invert the earth unfertile.
Anxiously await reprisal for the deprived life.
Horrifying rituals of unorthodox intelligence.
Premature suffering from within their charred domain.
Altering the promises of peaceful rest and afterlife.
Hideous denial of a once forgotten life.
Conqueror of the apocalypse.
Giver of supreme entity.
Churches rise from disturbed grounds.
Symphony of depression purifies.
All will be altered.
The dead choir will sing.
Hymns of blasphemous irreverence.
|Epitaph Of The Credulous|
The servant of the higher power is summoned by the emptiness of the|
lost souls. With wings extended, it sweeps across the land looking
for it's helpless victims. The young and old are it's prey; the ones
not strong enough to survive. With blood dripping from it's talons
and flesh between it fingers, it feast upon human prey. Fetuses
decorated with blood. Wombs torn from their mothers; the beast has
no feelings. It sees no remorse and pities the hopeless. It's meal
vast and plentiful, for there are many to feed upon. You see, there
are too many who have no need to live and something has to clean it
up. It comes with no warning and takes what is his. The old try to
find their way through God. Yet they are following a lost cause. You
see, in this world, he is God. No God can save you from him. The
beast was called by your so called God to clean up what has been
destroyed by the race that inhabits this planet. The beast is full
and the weak are scattered among the litter and trash.
I sit as tomorrow I die and today I will unburden my soul. These|
events have tortured me, and destroyed me. I can still hear her
faint screams engulfed in the atmosphere around me. The stench of
ammonia still encircles the room where her disemboweled corpse lies.
One night returning home, much intoxicated, I fancied my wife to
I seized her with the fury of a demon instantaneously possessed. I
knew myself no longer. My original soul, at once to leave my body
and a more fiendish malevolence, gin - nurtured, thrilled every
fibre of my frame.
At an instant, I grabbed the knife from the kitchen and left an
incision from ear to ear. In turn, her limp weak corpse fell
instantaneously. I, in return having received much pleasure from the
initial blow, had begun to cut into her abdomen. Once inside, I
began exploring the regions of her innards. The warm blood still
running, the warm blood still running down my hands is cold and
I began to remove her intestines, stopping to take a little nibble
or tow. Her uterus seems to mesmerize me as I bury my head into it
and lose myself into a world of the subconscious. For now I know the
many pleasures of my wife, and I will soon be joining her. (Solo:
|Prelude To Repulsion|
Pressure on the inner walls of my brain grows heavier. I must|
alleviate the pain I feel, for soon many will die as they come
before me with effortless attempts. The search for divine power
beckons me and the only way to achieve is to destroy. Victims of a
torn society lay in waste, as I pick through the bloody carcasses.
Dead bodies just seem to fall before me.
Saving the most edible morsels, the weak ones scatter. With bloody
weapon in hand, I tear through the limbs. Cries of anguish filter
through the land, echoing in the valley. Many have tried to come
before me with effortless attempts. I sift my way through the fields
of dead bodies, stopping to take a trophy or two.
The fields run deep and far, for I have killed many and I must
travel far to reach my destination.
My final resting place, where I will be reborn. For now, the air is
still, smell of dead bodies is ever so prevalent. I am the last and
here I shall remain. The pain I have once felt is lifted from my
being. Villages of useless waste, a race witch does not deserve to
live. I reek havoc amongst the children from a present with no
For I am the strong and those who defy me lay in waste. The days of
travel are long and the stench of how many I have killed lingers on.
I am tired and need rest, but the forces pulls me to my
Evil dwells within the inner sanctum of the mind. Each person has a|
piece of the puzzle locked inside. It only takes the right key to
open the subconscious. Once inside, it feeds like a leech sucking
the blood of an organism.
Until the whole body is infected with the disease. The mind then
becomes cluttered with cloudy visions of death, killings and all
other satanic biddings. It begins to affect thr train of thought.
The limbs cease to function, they tend to run amok. Reaching out to
grab a utensil of death.
Maybe starting with a finger or toe.
Once you've started, you can't withhold yourself from continuing.
The pain you feel is a mere infractioin of the evil that dwells
within your head.
You must continue to rid yourself of the dreaded disease. Maybe if
you cut it out, the eye of the plague that sweeps across your body,
you could be whole again.
In order to tear this part of yourself, would bare to die a painful
It would include opening the skull cavity and removing the brain.
An unspeakable horror that no being could handle.
Yet you feel as if this were your only hope.
Your prepare yoursefl for surgery.
Scalpel in hand, you thrust into the scalp.
The pain is unberable, but you continue making the incision.
With drill in hand, you find the seed of the demon inside.
Blood spews over the walls as you drill deeper.
(Solo: Cerrito / Solo: Hobbs)
|Ornaments Of Decrepancy|
Murderous thoughts determined to push me to a permanent state of|
insanity. An insanity concealed but very much present, waiting to be
released upon all. Those who deserve, and those innocently taken are
now victims of a disease with no prejudice. No one is protected from
the mind of a madman determined to bring upon harm. Death is more
sevear for those vulnerable and weak. I have no patience for
stupidity. No one can determin when their life will be taken, so why
live your last days weak and feeble. I know to kill once will lead
to killing again, to find which form of death is more pleasurable. I
often thought of mummifying the victims to create a new trend of
serial killing. The thought of bodies hangin, stripped of their
internal organs for longer preservation, left in the woods for
unsuspecting wanderers to reveal. I have not yet decided if the
heads should be trophies or sold for use in occult rituals. If
there's money in it, you can count me in. I often thought of
dismemberment. How many limbs can be severed before death? Using
different body parts from different victims to create one demented
masterpiece. I would feed human flesh to my next unsuspecting
victim, making sure they enjoyed it, to prove cannibalism isn't far
from any of our minds. Animals eat animals, man can eat man. Why do
I think this way? It's only getting worse.
Tattooed from the camps |
that mark your existance on a planet
deranged from the minds of the Reds.
Inferior race awaiting the
moment when you are dismissed
from your service in life.
Captive in torment,
the merciless slaughter of souls misfortuned at birth.
Taken from wombs before they are nurtured,
subjected to torture unknown.
Where bodies once lay,
the ground in now fertile to sprout
the tree of damnation.
A sign of remembrance that brings forth the
hatred which haunts the deceivers of life.
This deadly disease which
goes through one man,
to speak upon one as inferior.
Their heads will hang low because
in time they will acknowledge the human race
as the superior.
Families incarcerated commit spousal murder to
avoid the sightly pain of their loved ones.
Abducted while sane, now
insane, not by choice,
It was forced by the crisis of murder.
Constant infanticide plagues loving mothers as their newborn is
placed in a bed of dead roses.