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Aaron Turner - Attis Blade Lyrics

Body, tongue, touch and need
In suffocating arms were these learned
And from the withered teat was suckled
Poison nectar

Born of curse to walk the earth
Demanding service from the fallen
The evil seed in perfumed bloom
Chokes the host its bearer

To rut with shades
That welcome weakling conqueror king
In their embrace
The soul seeps from rotted loins

No hope for healing
Seen by eyes grown dim
Still he throws himself on clustered thorns

The lonely throne of he who seeks
The paltry arms of pleasure

In their beds he is compelled
To lose the blood of sin contained