Suffocation - Breeding The Spawn (2007) by Suffocation (보컬) on maniadb.com

The beginning of sorrow has come.
You cannot build but can destroy with what is left on earth.
Damage, now permanent, is yet enhanced day by day by unstoppable =
greed.
You are never truly happy unless one suffers more than yourself.
The choice is none, you will live in a world where you must fight a =
battle.
Some weaker, some stronger, in termination we'll die as one.
We fight amongst ourselves, enhanced by racial difference.
Our hatred never to diminish, it's just growing and growing 'till =
out day of release.
We race towards the years of tribulation, where wars, plagues and =
the antichrist.
What is the antichrist?
What is it's form?
Questions still asked yet unanswered.
No need for answers, with it's arrival brings sorrow, a sorrwo sonn =


dealt upon all.
Perhaps it's a pestilence in a form of virus spreading in it's own =
epidemic.
Perhaps it is famine killing off millions.
Does this happen 'cause we lack enough food.
One man's greed affects others less privileged, a cruel form of =
population control.
Why does this happen?
It is predestined fate not open for reason or change.
It's all been predicted, we'll die in vast numbers of a sickness =
that has no known cure.
We'll play the unknowing yet all are aware tribulation is here now =
for sure.

Eulogy inscribed in the scrolls of humanity.
Ancient scriptures of predicted demise.
A world encased in the womb of it's ignorance. =
Extinction will be swift, relentless butchery.
The structure collapses, spewing forth mutation.
Plague bathes the earth from infected skies.
Chaotic saturation into the pores of existence.
Breeding the spawn.
Effigy awake in it's mummified region.
Silent tombs concealed from the light.
Grueling afterlife christened by their deaths.
Malignant offspring of decrepit birth.
Impurity of souls.
Visions of the agony tightly close the weeping sky.
Spirits of what will be invert the earth unfertile.
Anxiously await reprisal for the deprived life.


Horrifying rituals of unorthodox intelligence.
Premature suffering from within their charred domain.
Altering the promises of peaceful rest and afterlife.
Hideous denial of a once forgotten life.
Ascending messiah.
Conqueror of the apocalypse.
Divine majesty.
Giver of supreme entity.
Churches rise from disturbed grounds.
Symphony of depression purifies.
All will be altered.
The dead choir will sing.
Hymns of blasphemous irreverence.

The servant of the higher power is summoned by the emptiness of the =
lost souls. With wings extended, it sweeps across the land looking =
for it=B9s helpless victims. The young and old are it=B9s prey; the ones =
not strong enough to survive. With blood dripping from it=B9s talons =
and flesh between it fingers, it feast upon human prey. Fetuses =
decorated with blood. Wombs torn from their mothers; the beast has =
no feelings. It sees no remorse and pities the hopeless. It=B9s meal =
vast and plentiful, for there are many to feed upon. You see, there =
are too many who have no need to live and something has to clean it =


up. It comes with no warning and takes what is his. The old try to =
find their way through God. Yet they are following a lost cause. You =
see, in this world, he is God. No God can save you from him. The =
beast was called by your so called God to clean up what has been =
destroyed by the race that inhabits this planet. The beast is full
and the weak are scattered among the litter and trash. =

Pressure on the inner walls of my brain grows heavier. I must =
alleviate the pain I feel, for soon many will die as they come =
before me with effortless attempts. The search for divine power =
beckons me and the only way to achieve is to destroy. Victims of a =
torn society lay in waste, as I pick through the bloody carcasses. =
Dead bodies just seem to fall before me. =
Saving the most edible morsels, the weak ones scatter. With bloody =
weapon in hand, I tear through the limbs. Cries of anguish filter =
through the land, echoing in the valley. Many have tried to come =
before me with effortless attempts. I sift my way through the fields =
of dead bodies, stopping to take a trophy or two.
=
The fields run deep and far, for I have killed m
any and I must =
travel far to reach my destination.


=
My final resting place, where I will be reborn. For now, the air is =
still, smell of dead bodies is ever so prevalent. I am the last and =
here I shall remain. The pain I have once felt is lifted from my =
being. Villages of useless waste, a race witch does not deserve to =
live. I reek havoc amongst the children from a present with no =
future,
For I am the strong and those who defy me lay in waste. The days of =
travel are long and the stench of how many I have killed lingers on.
I am tired and need rest, but the forces pulls me to my =
destination. =

Evil dwells within the inner sanctum of the mind. Each person has a =
piece of the puzzle locked inside. It only takes the right key to =
open the subconscious. Once inside, it feeds like a leech sucking =
the blood of an organism.
Until the whole bo
dy is infected with the disease. The mind then =
becomes cluttered with cloudy visions of death, killings and all =
other satanic biddings. It begins to affect thr train of thought. =
The limbs cease to function, they tend to run amok. Reaching out to =
grab a utensil of death.
Maybe starting with a finger or toe.

Once you've started, you can't withhold yourself from continuing. =
The pain you feel is a mere infractioin of the evil that dwells =
within your head.
You must continue to rid yoursel
f of the dreaded disease. Maybe if =
you cut it out, the eye of the plague that sweeps across your body, =


you could be whole again.
In order to tear this part of yourself, would bare to die a painful =
death.
It would include opening the skull cavity
and removing the brain.
An unspeakable horror that no being could handle.
Yet you feel as if this were your only hope.
Your prepare yoursefl for surgery.
Scalpel in hand, you thrust into the scalp.
The pain is unberable, but you continue making the
incision.
With drill in hand, you find the seed of the demon inside.
Blood spews over the walls as you drill deeper.
(Solo: Cerrito / Solo: Hobbs)

Murderous thoughts determined to push me to a permanent state of =
insanity. An insanity concealed but very much present, waiting to be =
released upon all. Those who deserve, and those innocently taken are =
now victims of a disease with no prejudice. No one is protected from =
the mind of a madman determined to bring upon harm. Death is more =
sevear for those vulnerable and weak. I have no patience for =
stupidity. No one can determin when their life will be taken, so why =
live your last days weak and feeble. I know to kill once will lead =
to killing again, to find which form of death is more pleasurable. I =
often thought of mummifying the victims to create a new trend of =
serial killing. The thought of bodies hangin, stripped of their =
internal organs for longer preservation, left in the woods for =


unsuspecting wanderers to reveal. I have not yet decided if the =
heads should be trophies or sold for use in occult rituals. If =
there's money in it, you can count me in. I often thought of =
dismemberment. How many limbs can be severed before death? Using =
different body parts from different victims to create one demented =
masterpiece. I would feed human flesh to my next unsuspecting =
victim, making sure they enjoyed it, to prove cannibalism isn't far =
from any of our minds. Animals eat animals, man can eat man. Why do =
I think this way? It's only getting worse.

Tattooed from the camps that mark your existance on a planet
deranged from the minds of the Reds. Inferior race awaiting the
moment when you are dismissed from your service in life. Captive in
torment, the merciless slaughter of souls misfortuned at birth.
Taken from wombs before they are nurtured, subjected to torture
unknown. Where bodies once lay, the ground in now fertile to sprout
the tree of damnation. A sign of remembrance that brings forth the
hatred which haunts the deceivers of life. This deadly disease which
goes through one man, to speak upon one as inferior. Their heads
will hang low because in time they will acknowledge the human race
as the superior. Families incarcerated commit spousal murder to
avoid the sightly pain of their loved ones. Abducted while sane, now
insane, not by choice, It was forced by the crisis of murder.
Constant infanticide plagues loving mothers as their newborn is
placed in a bed of dead roses.