

Devil Worship And Deities (B-Sides)
WIDOW BURIAL
Drawing sunsets, already gone.
As blood falls from our hair.
Depressions kiss---in the fog.
Graves molder, the ground un-rested.
Chains soak heart muscles.
Pulling apart our skin, pulling apart our skin.
Our skin…
You’re beautiful.
Bleeding in the rib cage coffin.
My tears, beg your release.
But I am alone… alone… alone… alone.
No sunsets above.
No sunsets below.
Please, take me.
Widow burial.
Widow.
Widow burial.
Widow.
Widow burial.
Widow burial.
-Lyrics by BUER
PUNCTURED GROUND
White shadows lay abandoned.
Mirrored bodies, breathe their corpses.
Smeared with ash, men suffer for burials;
While I wait through masks of ‘Him’:
Mercy drips its ebony prayers.
A Shepard of vultures.
Leeches plunge in skin baths of plague
Solitary fires purge in smoke.
Handcraft the devil’s delight.
Whispers rattle in punctured grounds of death.
-Lyrics by BUER
BLOOD SOAKED CHAMBERS
Pry open empty torture.
I’m your blood soaked chambers.
I’m the knife in your spine.
The gunshot to your head.
Shotgun blasts.
Blood soaked chambers.
Broken fingers, molested blood.
Acidic frost, bury the flesh white.
Embalm them…
Prayers are the dark streets.
Dripping in fog and rust.
The prayer of Satan.
Bleached skin, a tower of pain.
Your soul is fucked.
-Lyrics by BUER
HYALINE (Devil Bless Us)
From emptiness, Devil bless us.
Desirous messiah, drain your projects deep.
Sapience malign their vacant rooms.
No longer upon their room.
Incest, the clay of man.
Oh nativity, the cumming of children.
This pale throne.
Churning legates---eight thrones cast.
Our fathers, seven iron gates.
Mortal fruit, gates convex and demure.
Worship, the fatal key.
Worship the evil God’s.
Offering our sins.
Offering our sins.
Offering our sins.
-Lyrics by BUER
WOLVEN COFFIN
Beyond fire and light.
God’s howl in moon’s shadow.
Feasting upon ancient blood.
We praise, the beast.
Our wolven coffin.
Our wolven coffin.
Our wolven coffins.
-Lyrics by BUER
SHE
She betrays, a harlot of tongues.
Slithering among men in their rooms.
Spilling lies, from her diseased mouth.
She is lies.
She is filth.
Daughter of shit.
She hangs from meat hooks aloft.
Casting empty in her soul.
Dying within, alone.
She is filth.
She is disease.
She is poison.
She is filth.
She is a whore.
Her gnashes of flesh will burn.
Her heart an altar---sacrificing the whore to Satan.
-Lyrics by BUER
GUTTERTOWN
Cigarette burns; quiet warmth.
No one will remember you.
Don’t move our body.
Don’t move our body.
This night is your kiss.
Dying scabs, in blood removed.
These candles, a rotting heart.
Don’t move our body.
Don’t move our body.
Don’t move our body.
Green gutters (guttertown).
The eye of the rotting fruit.
Bathing inside of you.
Don’t move our body.
-Lyrics by BUER
EIGHT WHITE PONIES
My angel unfaithful.
Slow the bones, of a soul.
Shallow walls – bleeding, kissing.
For this you know.
The pendulum’s glow.
Eight White ponies of deception.
Shallow walls – bleeding, kissing.
Trampled with hooves.
Beating your soul.
For this you know.
For this you know.
The pendulum’s glow.
Eight white ponies of deception.
Shallow walls – bleeding, kissing.
-Lyrics by BUER
BRICKS OF DISEASE
One more shot of whiskey.
I’d like to thank you.
I’ve lost this tomorrow.
It’s too damn late.
The memories, never a changing.
Drinking from a beggars broken hands.
Everyone just keeps on singing their sad song.
All gone… All gone.
This is just another suicide song.
Where another country song dies.
Six bullets left, open bleeding.
Our back is broken; the blood is white.
Thomas Wolfe, keeps writing our sad story.
Fall past the dock, our neck broken.
Sleep soaks a Devil’s dream.
Where the cold bleeds out the mouth.
Go on now---drink from the Mississippi’s tears.
The bayou ebbs and flows; New Orleans, our dying home.
Nawlins, nawlins, nawlins.
-Lyrics by BUER
SHADOWLESS HEALING WHISPERS (PART II)
Hell!!!!!
Satan holds me beneath – where I must die.
Eaten soul, the bleeding sores of famine.
Black horns, they shall inherit;
Selfish whores, whom devour themselves.
Silent Demon.
Empty gods of hell.
Pair your entrails.
To the host below.
When the skies roll back.
Into their graves of eternal horror.
They swarm my flesh—eaten.
-Lyrics by BUER