Pity for the Pious (Live)

The pious pour their pity pure

I can sell a little cure

The burning flesh

The sweetest smell

I kiss the angel

Burnt in hell

I watch your fallen boring fate

As you sweat and you masturbate

I'm touching you but cannot feel

But one small poke and you will squeal

Constantly commit consume

Creep on to your closing tomb

No whiskey welcome at your door

Not a light for your whore

Not a word that I can hear

The stench of shit tells me you’re near

Your god is gaping

Your god is waiting

Your terror rises

To no surprises

Mirror mirror on the wall

Doberman's are in the hall

Mirror mirror on the wall

Take off that blindfold face them all

Mirror mirror on the wall

Dope bonanza in the mall

Mirror mirror on the wall

Hold on tight I'll fuck you all