Son of filth, born of scum
In the manger she'll succumb,
The foul breed screams it's love,
The word of a "god" above.
The weak fall to their knees,
Suffering from faith's disease,
I despise pathetic lies,
This race of worthless flies.
Death to the holy,
The god they can't see,
The liar high above,
Graces none with his love,
I will bear witness,
To all religious,
Ravaged by disease,
With no god to appease
Death to all that is holy,
Your vile disgusting flesh will rot,
There is no salvation.
The Portland death metal band honors the decades-old relationship between underground metal and independent horror. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 18, 2023