Let the insufficient bastard sob
Promptly we’ll stick it with Moloch
Hallowed sigils and feral dances
we’ll let the devils hear our furor
Moloch is rendered with iron
he maintains a compartment for this insignificant, goddamn runt
The lass is to be sanctified in hellfire
Oh, heed the infant’s howl while we use it to nourish the blazes
Black mist ululates from Moloch’s gaze
the dancers, partakers in sacrilege, abruptly standstill
The newborn‘s scorched, nonetheless, i’s now pure
and so the unruly ghouls erupt into orgy
John Putignano 