Her throat labours at the work of felate

A ghoul has stepped through her skin and into God
And in this place she is bound to her God
Bride of the rotting world, made by God

Awful and beautiful to her eyes
Because here, here love ends, here love dies
Come the arrival of the God of all flies

Consumed by her own slow-burn, bitter fire

Utter, utter the words of her mind
Mother, mother to all mankind
Utter, utter all men will fall

Day by day she steps closer to her crucifixion
Fair ribbons of scarlet dance from her wrists
Hard by the gates to hell, her crucifixion

From her own sound creation
She is brought into being