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Ad altre fetide carcasse del persuaso
Lascio oceani di ondeggiare decomposto
Lungo flutti dai conati sanguinanti
E correnti d' infezione ostica, rigonfia e pulsante
Sia sferzante la mia caduta nel dissuaso
Schianti il cranio a questa arte senza posto
Su la battigia delle muffe scricchiolanti
Tra stoiche febbri circolari di morte stagnante
Avanti presto c'è da figliare col ciarpame
Questo a monito per gli adepti dello scarto
A voi il carnaio masturbato da voi padri
A voi la grazia di rigurgitare il tetro
Io piango l' onde tra le pustole e il carcame
Non la diarrea che voi chiamate parto
Io sono il niente che alla veglia di voi madri
Masticava le sue sbornie con il vetro
Concupiscente sciabordare d'acque e sperma
Tonfa, scuoti a prora questo marcio mare
Squarcia il grembo tua matrice, tua carena
Tuo scandaglio d'ossa e peste, nervi e melma
Spezza. Guasta. Infetta. infetta fino al sale
Ogni fiotto, ogni forma, ogni piena
To other fetid hulks of persuaded
I leave oceans of swaying decomposed
Along billows of bleeding retch
In stubborn, swollen and pulsating infection currents
Let my fall in the deterrent be lashing
Crash the skull of this art without a place
On the shoreline of creaking molds
Among stoic circular fevers of stagnant death
Go ahead! There is to calve with rubbish
This as a warning to adepts of waste
To you the slaughter masturbated by you fathers
To you the grace to regurgitate the gloomy
I cry the waves between the pustules and the carcass
Not the diarrhea you call birth
I am the nothing that at the wake of you, mothers
Chewed his fuddle with glass
Lustful lapping of water and sperm
Rumble, shake this rotten sea bow
Rips the womb your matrix, your hull
Your fathoming of bones and plague, nerves and slime
Split. Spoil. Infects. Infected up to salt
Every stream, every shape, every flood
Lascio oceani di ondeggiare decomposto
Lungo flutti dai conati sanguinanti
E correnti d' infezione ostica, rigonfia e pulsante
Sia sferzante la mia caduta nel dissuaso
Schianti il cranio a questa arte senza posto
Su la battigia delle muffe scricchiolanti
Tra stoiche febbri circolari di morte stagnante
Avanti presto c'è da figliare col ciarpame
Questo a monito per gli adepti dello scarto
A voi il carnaio masturbato da voi padri
A voi la grazia di rigurgitare il tetro
Io piango l' onde tra le pustole e il carcame
Non la diarrea che voi chiamate parto
Io sono il niente che alla veglia di voi madri
Masticava le sue sbornie con il vetro
Concupiscente sciabordare d'acque e sperma
Tonfa, scuoti a prora questo marcio mare
Squarcia il grembo tua matrice, tua carena
Tuo scandaglio d'ossa e peste, nervi e melma
Spezza. Guasta. Infetta. infetta fino al sale
Ogni fiotto, ogni forma, ogni piena
To other fetid hulks of persuaded
I leave oceans of swaying decomposed
Along billows of bleeding retch
In stubborn, swollen and pulsating infection currents
Let my fall in the deterrent be lashing
Crash the skull of this art without a place
On the shoreline of creaking molds
Among stoic circular fevers of stagnant death
Go ahead! There is to calve with rubbish
This as a warning to adepts of waste
To you the slaughter masturbated by you fathers
To you the grace to regurgitate the gloomy
I cry the waves between the pustules and the carcass
Not the diarrhea you call birth
I am the nothing that at the wake of you, mothers
Chewed his fuddle with glass
Lustful lapping of water and sperm
Rumble, shake this rotten sea bow
Rips the womb your matrix, your hull
Your fathoming of bones and plague, nerves and slime
Split. Spoil. Infects. Infected up to salt
Every stream, every shape, every flood
Credits
Writer(s): Massimo Silverio
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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