Blacksmith blacksmith working in the shadows wedged between the world and here, in a clandestine dungeon the size of a forest where the mass of little people swinging sledges. His shadow brings them fear. The anvil was forged in fire!
"Pounding pounding - brimstone and filth
Whilst reluctantly we sing the Lilliputian lilt
In this giant subterranean hall, in which it all does blend
The deafening battering echoes without end."
Mercy! Mercy! I don't want to die! A young brunette is crying out as they are being stripped. Nevermore! - Evermore? - "Now shut that little whore", the old one roars, and no one laughs no more.
"The cloven hooved employer, he who fathered all evil
Has placed our hollow-eyed heads between the hammer and the anvil"
Blacksmith blacksmith chained unto his hammer. Zombie-like they wrought the iron.
Hurry up, hurry up! There's sixteen more to go! We don't want to feed them devils at the barbeque tonight with our own bottles that is!
"Yet another ferryload has crossed the river styx
Stripped then divided by hair colour in triplets of six after letting off some steam, of that devilish desire
The host throws the party into the great lake of fire eaten back to life anew this time with eyes wide shut
It is common knowledge one must strike while the iron's hot work our fingers to the bone
The calluses are overgrown how we'd love join the orgy, in the ring of satanic sluts"
