Xasthur - They Bleed to Death

Ordeals of thousand deeds congealed in gloom
Strike hard and deep, to hell with 'em master
Mighty prophets stature shall surpass the stars
The passion is the smell of cremation
I spit on your crapulous creed, curse 'em!
Sucking you giveth delight and bright glory
Strive ever to be more joyous to the death
Don't fear any god will deny you for this!