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letra de the local flavour - amputated

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fashioned from flesh, an infinite source of meats
my children flock, to this familiar feast
never suspecting, their love for me is blinding
to them a saint, the doting hand that feeds
but history will mark me as a beast

hiding my true nature, whilst amongst the sheep
like lambs to slaughter upon them i will feast

watching the lost wander, without direction
i bless them with purpose, to be my sustenance

in my kitchen countless victims, i dine upon them, and dredge their shame

carving the flеsh from their bones so tendеrly

i have mastered the art of butchery
all my victims, selected carefully
i document them and then preserve their organs
i claim the best, the finest cuts for me
i stew the rest, and feed it to the pure

never think to question, the source of this treat
unwitting communion, of this divine cuisine

letras aleatórias

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