(The life of the flesh is in the blood)
I am the Worthless…
A shattered shell
Rising in darkness
Forsaking all but self
Dying in pure filth
This rotting shell
Rises in weakness
Begetting cruel enmity.
Drunk with the Whore’s blood,
I wonder how it has come to this.
How has it come to this?
Why would you bleed for this rotting shell?
Where is your purity? Why would you bleed for me?
Now I will accept your sacrifice mournfully.
Purify me with disease…you must bleed for me!
Prepare the sacrifice. Sanctify the altar. Bloodlust will desecrate, defile the
Willingly pierce the flesh. Suffer blissfully to consecrate this wasted life.
Soul for soul….
Why would you bleed for me?
Bleed to me!
Sins that are too many to forgive
Torture my conscience and putrefy
In the midst of my hollow mind.
This golden vial has turned to clay.
Submit yourself unto me
A living sacrifice
I'll only take what I need
And leave you with what remains
If only in this life we have hope, we are of all creatures most miserable.
So send the blade plunging deep within your anxious flesh
And find the path leading to eternal bliss and savor pleasures never before
Aroma of incense… bitter scent of burned blood… Usher you to worlds unknown.
I never wanted any of this.
Now we’ve gone too far to ever turn back… Bloodletting must now run its course
Now that I have tasted your flesh
I can never return to what I was... Just a shell with no destiny
Screams are what you make of them.
Blur the thin line between pain and pleasure.... Free yourself and find salvation
Quaking with anticipation
Feel the hot life force slowly escaping... Fleeing, feeding, freeing, bleeding
I've become your pain
Of the Man of Sin
Bleed to me again
Let the life flow
From your veins into me
With each drop your soul escapes
Rapturous euphoria awaiting
Breeding a new creature
Born of your innocence
And my lust for your blood
The life of the flesh is in the blood
And yours is pure and clean
It doesn't mean to me what it means to you
Your eternal soul ends as blood on my hands
Now you're free
Heartless fools surround the altar of faithless fiends groping the flesh of the
Orgasmic frenzy erupts overflowing and tainting the Virgin of yore.
Beckoned, resisted, demonically twisted we succumb to fleshly commands.
Storms of a thousand years…seas filled with ancient tears won't wash your blood
from my hands.
New Zealand technical death outfit Ulcerate have often been praised for their innovative genre approach—but six albums into their discography, there's even greater strength in their consistency. Bandcamp Album of the Day Dec 20, 2016