Abramelin

Flesh Furnace

Abramelin


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