X Rated Puppet Theatre Of The Dead

Lyrics

[Intro: MC Mangina] Butchers Harem We're gonna make hand puppets out of your severed cock [Hook: All] X rated puppet theatre of the dead Thrusting penis puppetry controls the motions of your head Electronic circuits in the walls of your rectum Animate your genitals to feed our erection In the theatre of innards, we're the punishers of sinners Erotic flesh is torn, devouring corpses of poor Watch the sexy dead whores perform a lap dance of gore When our creative vision is your afterlife submission [Verse 1: MC Bushpig] Using a carved-out horse's cock It's my hand puppet of choice Ripping the entrails out of your twat Bleeding keeps your vulva moist Draining vital essence out of the anal cavities of adolescents Loving the taste of your putrescence Recycle the sexual elements Deceased genitals sewn together Dead organs taste better When they're sliced up and severed Dismembered and shredded Spraying the jizm in the mouths of the beheaded Rotten flesh marionette Forced to have sex with the scat obsessed Your violent demise is my creative vision Performing X rated afterlife renditions In my picture of your vaginal decomposition Your mortal flesh is cursed and imprisoned Waiting to be liberated by my razor sharp incisions Your remains ever born just to perform this erotic carcass porn Unglorified affection, leaking abscesses Castrated, banished, and moulded to perfection In an orgy of cold blooded venereal infection Sucking on dermatosis Beautiful anal lesions at the onset of your necrosis Atrophic [?] with follicular plugging We scalp the rotten meat for the puppet theatre of pornographic corpses fucking [Verse 2: MC Mangina] I'm pulling the strings of the hanging severed penis bait I'll lubricate the cavern of the swollen meat cave Gyrate, masturbate a castrated cock on the terrified face Your limbs are displaced in septic waste I taste my perfect meat and finger your prostate Penetrate, marinate your anal juice into a perfect paste My vagina is a ventriloquist covered in a bloody mist Spraying out blood when I start to fist and persist 'Till the gaping holes cease to exist You know you can't resist the misogynist gynaecologist Your dick is so small and thin It can only be used as a finger puppet Now you're a lifeless muppet Rotting in the cupboard and salivating them over vagina dentata Starving for my during cadaver Now I'll beat your holy mother I've got my hand right up your rectum to your mouth Now I'm your dictator and your anal interrogator I keep your brains in the refrigerator So I can savour the flavour for later I string your genitals up like a marionette Smoke your cock like a cigarette Suck on it 'till it's moist and wet Like I'm giving my worst enemy head Now your dick resembles nothing but a dying worm When you get desperate and you start to squirm That's why I light up again and touch myself as you slowly burn [Verse 3: MC Cumblood] Sexual [?] colon absorbed Sliced up [?] store [?] meat hooks Faecal flavoured vomit n gore At the [?] ritual summoning infant [?] gore orgasm Sperm sex [?] moisture on my cock [?] orgasm Malnourished servant corpses [?] violent sex [?] facial rape [?] death My rotten [?] facial flavoured covered anal whore [?] razors up ya cunt covered in faeces [?] born Appetise my rotten cock [?] glans Ready for my [?] vagina with my pedophilic head [?] garnished [?] [?] torn and damaged , produced [?] snuff Lubricate my [?] blades [?] Manically fucking the theatre of sluts with sexual combat [?] anal biowhore [?] violent [?] mutilation [?] penetration [?] copulation [?] reanimating unborne death [?] and my cock is coloured red [?] food [?] carcasses [?] interspecies on my sexual appetite As I [?] in the dead [?] [Hook] X rated puppet theatre of the dead Thrusting penis puppetry controls the motions of your head Electronic circuits in the walls of your rectum Animate your genitals to feed our erection In the theatre of innards, we're the punishers of sinners Erotic flesh is torn, devouring corpses of poor Watch the sexy dead whores perform a lap dance of gore When our creative vision is your afterlife submission