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Cryptopsy
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Angelskingarden
Touched by Jeqon The inciter Well-rounded woman flesh Doth tempt The angels of the watch To sin And their sons are Nephilim
Thrice blessed are we in his garden We have the world, our health, our kin: As we «go forth and multiply» We take form each other's skin
Endogamy: the choice of millions In (all their) elemental ugliness: In the echoes of repetition Imperfection sires itself
Nothing in life Has any business being perfect: It's an affront To anyone with good taste
Choice is divine So choose family over strangers: Why trouble the waters Of the gene pool for a mate?
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Like a lump between two surgeons Man quivers 'twixt desire and need: The law is the will, and we've chosen The kingdom of which we would be
In filial sect We are genesis incarnate: In our faces We see manifest destiny
(and) leave nothing alive
With thoughts of heaven come deeds of flesh: We'd look once more upon his holy visage And our children whom we've known and wed (are) our means to recreate his image
In lurking fear of his displeasure After dark, between their cries In the eye of the beholder: This is where beauty dies
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