I dig my hands in the soil
 Of an open old grave
 Feeling the bone against my fingers
 I raise an item of beauty

 Staring at empty sockets
 A grin of bone, jaw unattached
 I wipe the dirt away
 And kiss the infant skull

 So close in my dreams
 But this is reality
 And no dream can overcome
 This mental orgasm

 The rest of your lovely bones
 Obsess me to make love
 In a morbid office to Satan
 Serve the demonic host

 Stench of rotten blood
 From the black urns
 Nightmares and pestilence
 The face of the king!