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Black Shuck

by The Corporate Life

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1.
2.
In my tortured ears, sounds a nightmarish flapping, and whirring, a faint distant baying, I hear it It's not a dream, I fear, it's not even madness For too much has happened to lend any doubt St. John is mangled; a corpse torn asunder; and such is my knowledge, that I must relate Terror in the darkness, the bringer of dread, these Impossible nightmares are filling my head, in the Night-black abysses of my vacant soul, lurks a horror unheard of, shapeless and cold Silent and ceaseless, the howl in the night, like some eldritch phantasm, I'm frozen with fright, and I beg for escape from the beast in the gloom, but I feel evermore that it brings me my doom The folly, foreboding, of my monstrous fate is enough that I'm driven to blow out my brains
3.
Weary and drained with the world that we knew Barren, devoid, but our cravings increasing Depth and diabolism of our exploits Ennui-driven to robbing the dead Human outrage of abhorrent extreme; our detestable course; our insatiable need Deep in the earth lay our nameless museum adorned with the tomb loot of unhallowed graves Demons of onyx and red charnel hangings profusion of corpses, there rotting away Nighttime excursions exquisite and pure, under the moonlight indulgently feasting Ghoulishly vulgar ecstatic, a thrill contrasting, now with my haunting and dread St. John, the leader, and I with the spade Nightmarish graveyard I wish them away!
4.
Here, in this churchyard - dark rumour, and Legend Buried five centuries, this ghoul's sepulchre I can recall in these last earthly moments The scene of the moonlight dancing on gravestones Horrible shadows, grotesque and decrepit The looming of arbour; desmondus rotundus Pervasive, disquiet - It haunts me, the baying Still we break the soil; Our delving addiction Iron meets wood, moulder, decay five hundred years has our quarry contained Oh, had I known the price of sanity, that grinning corpse, and our depravity
5.
Isolation, trapped in cold Sanctuary, 'neath the mold I can not sleep, restless mind - weak Sounds and dark shapes; something haunting me Ancient stories tell of a fiend soul embodied in our stolen piece What have I done? Repent my sins! Screams reached the house! Blood and torn flesh! Blood and torn flesh! Bringer of death!
6.
Fearing my solitude, flight overtook me My home now a ruin, our secrets secure The shadow pursues me from London to lowlands a curse like a plague, without cure or respite Damn this jade amulet, St. John was right! Terror, of the rabble Terror, of the people Terror, but a fraction That which, will befall me! Red death in the thieves den Red death in the thieves den All hope is gone, salvation lost Terror of the rabble Terror of the people Terror but a fraction That which, will befall me! All night, above drunken voices and clamour insistent, the baying that drives me to dread What choice is mine now, but madness or death? Can lead bring me solace, at peace in my head?
7.
So at last I stood again moonlit winter churchyard frosty grass and cracking slabs night-wind howling maniacally Why else go there except to pray? Insane pleas and apologies Calm white thing that lay beneath Desperation compelling me Lies lead me here, must repent Lies, so austere, my descent Death hangs so near,Take me Crouched within this despoiled tomb mockery of impending doom bony stranger that we defiled ensanguined fangs, yawning twistedly I merely screamed I must flee Dissolving Madness Lies lead me here, must repent Lies, so austere. My descent hangs so near Take me now! Claws and teeth, Death finds me Oblivion, I shall seek

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released March 20, 2020

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The Corporate Life Clarington, Ontario

Rantings on sociopolitical subjects, set to loud guitars and percussion. We manage to squeeze into a few genre categories, as listed somewhere else.

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