Hells poetry
Sadness is sweet my Embrace,
It always puts a smile upon my face
A loving torture is a luxury I adore,
Come in with sin and close my door
A fantastic aroma of burnt flesh you will smell.
This is the beauty of my hell.
Sit at my table and waist away.
Will talk of fine dinning,
Blood fermenting to whining,
With a fearsome fatale feast
My secret taste in greediness lies dead.
The importance is, fed its all in the decay,
Will talk of hate do not be late!
None of you will have a good day,
Not here, unless you scream to God,
In fear that is the song, I love so dear.
So Play it again! Woe son of Sam
For Satan is who I am
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