My Lord Salivates In Sevens

by Mythorgeth

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about

Please click on the cover to see the complete image. Bandcamp is a difficult mistress. Complete cover is included as a bonus item.

credits

released August 21, 2015

All music, lyrics and art by Joseph Flurry
additional vocals on 4 by Maxim Saint Laurent

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license

all rights reserved

about

Mythorgeth Van Buren, Arkansas

Experimental bedroom "metal"

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Track Name: Slither Through
The serpents have dropped
the consequence of your flawed ideologies.

"Rain in my cup!",
bellowed from their kingdom.
Therefore, throats were torn.
Their final gesture:
Slither through the corpse!
Steeped and dried,
stigma well versed.

Emergent fins,
scrotum plainly visible.
His solvent limbs
to erupt, in spurts
at first grace of ethereal brush.

Delayed gestation
giving shape to fever.
Track Name: The Swirling Matrix
In this sermon, we will pinpoint
causation and catalyst,
all active and inactive forms of counterpoint,
and for whom, the sacred aesthetic suffered.

He who dares to exorcise
his skeletal magnitudes
will trip on the ashes and find
highest heaven was lower than he thought.

I am the travelling minister!
I have come to share
the blood of hypocrisies kneeling
in conjunction with his laws.
Watch as my soapbox shakes
from gluttonous force!

Have you heard the word?
Have you considered abundance
with I as your facilitator?

Matrix one: Recite the pneumonic scriptures
so deeply carved in the flesh of your messiah.
Matrix two: see matrix one.

I have a trick for remembering
the ninety deadliest sins
for I once strived to commit each,
each and every one.

Have you heard the word?
Have you considered abundance?

Which of my teachings
shall bare the weight of time?
and which of my words
will through ages, resound in my absence?
Which of my detriments
will not be prayed away?

What if they dub me their martyr?
What if they force me to die for the cause?
There's only one chance
to pledge my allegiance
to their swirling fabrics.

Into the swirling matrix, we are thrown.

"Sever none other like his wrath!"

Oh, the humility in passing between worlds.

Affix your hollowed gaze
to the portrait I present.
Rebuke the snake you welcomed in.
Sever none other like you would his wrath.

Now that we've pinpointed
causation and catalyst,
all active and inactive forms of counterpoint,
You are dismissed.
Track Name: Stratum
Entire units were obscured
for your rebirth.
Pay blood to the prophets
who festered you home,
A uterine sacrament
A fetal anomaly

Now explodes just like the others
who were only sky-bound clones.

Earth, in and of itself.
It's inhabitants.
It's pros and cons.

Black medicine,
why fray the strings you pulled?
and what shall I find
in your concaves of irrational importance?

Through decades of searching,
His cause was still lost,
facilitating intravenous orgies.

A brief history of keratin
was only to distract from the cutting.

Makeshift cattle prod
was quick to not even flinch.
His intelligence
inherently challenged
at the hand of the enigma.

Distance is key.

Circumcenterplex, distant is he,
but so close was his stench,
that I anxiously squealed the final stanza:

"It is now god's word against mine.
It is now nothing that I hold in my palm,
to present to no one."

For every occupied grave,
a face he couldn't save.

"
Track Name: Curse and Cut (In Chains of Threes)
Quarantine the impure.
To these calcified excursions,
sourly admit.

The rapture or a worm?
Jesus Christ or larvae?

Splitting the halo.
Both halves
shall on this unblessed eve
be utilized in the name
of the conglomerate.
In the name of what I became.
Through vegetative and vigilant rays,
curse and cut!

Through venomous cloves
in dogmatic aromas.
The tension winks, as if to build,
sprawling and jerks
to be segmented in threes.

Plural unnerving's binomial sweat.

(reverberating French monologue)

I'd refer you to figure Q,
but solve it for yourself.
I'd prefer you not leave a trace
but if you do, make sure it's at least three.

In what mosque, at dawn's light
do vines un-christened wax
their proverbial follicles?
And which chapter of sardonia
do the father, the son and the ghost
bathe in, hollow out?

Bathed in, hollowed out.

"Obscona deveta. En leviatha. Nos serpentuary."

Your vessel has been assigned.

Bind the lion, tame the boa!





"
Track Name: Function Graph
To the barn, jowls drip solutions
of cyanide and whore sweat.

Gross world order, erected atop
foundations of mascara.

It is time to secure the inches
and utterly allow the leak,
devolved and swirling to naught.
It's cornea equating to aged hymen,
compulsively scaling the arm.

Verbose and bubbling.

"Do I come back?"
He said unto me,
"You're almost there."

"Rigor ad vigor, invest ad sequentia.
Pelseaux convorxi, blasphemia di'zelque!"

Adjacent to hades,
my lover, my object, my capsule:
The slab unto which I expel vile salts.
Oh shit, the curtains ascend.
Boneshrine revealed.

I wept to prolong
the binary median,
finite and cast aside.

Behold the pious vortex I thee wed,
Senility's agoraphobic masticator.
It was malnourished, more so than foretold.
More so than once foretold.

"Calci fide!"

The sway of imminent sainthood,
still warm, it longs to breathe
in the volatile cocktail
of flux and sardonic rinds.
Sardonic, both in essence and rhyme.

Ostracized by those on high,
the ruse I quenched
by fire and cement.

The crystal of blood was shed
like he was never born.
Track Name: Gnat Colony
A medicated harlot's
prologue of astrologic grief,
worn atop vacant sentiments

Leavings vein emptied,
save for the parasite we designed
specifically for this scenario.

Mere centimeters,
mere lacking of luster.

In locking the marianas,
trench-like destinies laid before you,
How, now, will you segment them?

By transferring the cataracts
twixt his hive and thigh.
Ripping like the mother was,
as she gorged on wine of a questionable age.

To her call, kneel and siphon the lifeblood
To his balls, introduce the consistency of bile.
Caked in lead, slut I tamed.
I choke the gnat colony from tracheal depths
"Fly out! Be gone, fiend!"

A new method in transfusion,
A new transfusion
worn atop vacant sentiments.

In beggars elysium, thorns rarely invade.
He, here, now, unfurls.
Track Name: Ode to Shaken Faith
At this juncture,
the amorphous faith-shaker
descends from vascular webbing,
breaching paralysis
in desolate numerical fields.

Fascist tundra aligned
in more ways than none
when the fabled toxin
enveloped all concern,
breeding new life.

Catastrophicolonic lethargy
studied in depth by
breathing, serrated
salivating stencils.

Your exit was too clever.
Please re-enter
and solidify the chaos we sought.

His offering of evasive extremity,
feeble in it's squirming nature.

(Amen!)

It would, at every sunset,
etch the future in symbols.
His urges foretold
of the crumbling populous
grazing on all fours.

During the initial ceremonies,
the thoughts were still there.
They gave him pills to slow them down.
(To slow those fuckers down.)

As crimson dripped
from once holy tongues,
the boy watched.

"My teeth were jagged from the rain,
and the jet lag was unbelievable.
I bet you wondered where I was."

They gave him pills.