Gwar. Lust in Space. Release The Flies. Zeneszám

Mount up, rip torn
Launch beast, reborn

Torture, release the flies
Your karma is the stench of a thousand whore's thighs
My wrath has? emerged from it's bottomless pit
Unto a world drowning in shit and you are it

Torture, release the flies
Your dogma's the sheen of a dying man's eyes
A plague to disrupt the intentions of your breeding
The maggot awaits with your corpse I'm feeding