Abramelin - Flesh Furnace

Roasts his parents as they sleep, a ghastly human pyre

Who'd suspect a little boy that shouldn't play with fire?

Firmly tied down to the bed, sprawled across the mattress

Doused in petrol, pleads of mercy, staring at the matches

Eyes of horror open wide as finally the match is struck

Hungry fumes burst in to flames, your little boy don't give a fuck

Blue flames race across the blankets, sheets fuse to their backs

Excruciating torturous pain, as faces melt like wax

The fire-works excite the boy, he dances 'round the bed

Chanting, whooping merrily, his parents glowing red

Across the bed and up the walls, the fire licks the ceiling

Paint and flesh react the same, blistering and peeling



Blood, blackened lung and un-burnt fuel

Ooze from the mouth as filthy drool

Carbonized corpse brittle and thin

Teeth grinning brown through black flaking skin



Years gone by that little boy has turned into a man

Ten score lives gone up in smoke - his trusty jerry can

His favourite prey, the sleeping ones, ignorant to attack

Awakened by the fuel-fumes of the pyromaniac



The haunting dreams of parents dead,

torments his mind each day

New couples faces, a mere disguise,

those parents have to pay

Masturbating furiously, their torment he remembers

A whisp of steam, a sizzling sound, as semen hits the embers