Witchcraft

Desolate lands of magic, where Evil stands supreme.

Death proclaimed the savior, his scythe no longer keen.

I create from the darkness, this vile infested place

Of non existing light, beyond our time and space.

Deep in my subconcious, my enemies fall prey.

Through unholy rituals, they serve me and obey.

Darkest pit of the Abyss, where my lunacy burns bright.

Where I reign in terror, there only is the night.

WITCHCRAFT!

Place of horrors, I gladly make return.

WITCHCRAFT!

In infernal fire your souls will burn!

In the black depths of my soul, my beating heart has died.

Sadistic lust and sodomy, shall now keep me warm inside.

Like the sweetest of poison it permeates me.

And upon this world I unleash, my hatred burning free.

Wandering through this realm, landscapes of lost hope and pain.

I thrive on the screams of the damned, condemned to the flame.

Their laments are my reqiuem, twisted songs of agony.

I'll tear them piece by piece and make them writhe in painful ecstasy.

WITCHCRAFT!

The scythe of Death shall sing.

WITCHCRAFT!

Embrace the suffering!

Upholding this worlds has taken its toll, I feel numb and jaded.

But every consequence is worth, the abhorrence I created.

Behold your mangled bodies, worthy of nothing but scorn.

My tortured abominations, for my pleasure you were born.

The ritual is ending, my invocations soon undone.

But do not be delighted, your suffering has just begun.

Soon I'll conjure again, this Abyss of damnation.

My private torture palace of crumbling salvation.

WITCHCRAFT!

You shall beg for death.

WITCHCRAFT!

But to torture you'll be led!