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Orgy of corpses - Rehearsal slaughter

"Orgy of corpses - Rehearsal slaughter" (2005 Demo)

1. Child Saint
2. Shackled
3. Iron Cross
4. Trophies Of War

1. Child Saint

Virgin born, virgin slain, a holy vessel sent
On gilded wings to save the sins of human indiscretion
Ushered through life in a cloak of mysticism
Eyes sown blind to the pentagram
A martyr for faith and restraint
The curse of the child saint

Child saint

License and luxury, the tethers that fray
Fruit forbidden left to rot in vats of prohibition
Cutting a swathe of rampant procelytism
Blindly fulfilling a destiny
The mark of rebirth as his taint
Accursed, the child saint

Child saint

A sinner in chains, for all the pain
Is richer still than a child saint

2. Shackled

Emblems of sorcery, crystal debauchery
Black superstition
Mist and malefice, crooked artifice
Devil’s mission
Rampant witchery, smoke of mystery
Virgins tempted, no soul exempted

Cloven hoof embedded in the dust
As the flicker of
Lust starts to race in her veins
Daggers of morality thrust
Met and parried as
Lust sets her loose from her chains of death


Contracts broken, a name unspoken
Sweet seduction
Lightning flashes and crimson rashes
A soul’s abduction
Candles flickering, blood flow quickening
Lips are moistened
Drunk and delirious, draughts mysterious
See her poisoned

Courtesans of Hades serving Earth
With a luxury
Worth far more than the name
Jealousy and zealotry give birth
Devil children as
Earth goes under the flame of death


Torches burn black in the night
Hunting high, hunting low
Glowing with fear
Darkened by lust
Hammer of the witches comes down
Cleaving with spite
Nailing the coffins shut

Hawked and hounded, her fears well founded
Shadows lengthening swarm her strengthening
Ducked and floating, her captors gloating
Stakes erected
Burnt for living, her unforgiving
Flesh consumed by flames

Her soul is far from saving now…

…your crimes will see you SHACKLED!

3. Iron Cross

Shining sable, silver lined
The morning star once rose
Razor sharp with cruel design
Beneath a blithe repose
Scything through a captive heart
Asunder torn and bled
Assuaging guilt with noble art
To keep a culture fed

Demonized and evilized
Not ever to return
Brutal desecration of your idols
Now they burn with an iron cross

Ancient figurines in stone
Contorted, painted black
Reared upon a morbid throne
With knives thrust in the back
Decorated talismans
Condemned to faceless graves
Dynamite in callous hands
An honour that enslaves

Sacred rites and crystal nights
Shards scattered on the ground
Glory in the ashes
As the tenements go down with iron crosses

4. Trophies Of War


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