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OGRE - Sanatas


(Axe of Contrition)

Released: March, 1990
Recorded: Dublin, Ireland


The Grub

Hurt me, wallop me, slap me, scold me.
I want pain, I deserve punishment.
If that’s the best you can do,
I’ll take my business elsewhere.
Wound me with your sally-stick,
Make me feel better?
None of it, I tell you!
Who do you think you are sir?
Imposing your healing potions upon me.
I’ve a good mind to pour salt in my wounds,
My young fellow.
Hit me with a hammer, spit on me,
Urinate on my face,
For I am worthless, you idiot


Now it has happened. The lunatic is free.
The cage is open; where is the key?
Bludgeoning iron flattening skulls,
Large evil man grunting with lust for pain.
He sees flesh, his desire. Ripping skin.
Blistered genitals, seeping with pus.
Half-chewed organs, shrewed from his grin.
Bodies torn in half, pools of blood.
Drinking from the Chalice of Evil.
Axe slices head like knife through butter,
No good, must run.

Axemaster, the Grandmaster.
Axemaster, Insane disaster.

Draw the Blood

Minutes to go, your face turns pale,
As you float through the void of no-return.
Darkness fills your eyes,
Feelings of Death are all around.
Screams of gore and doom are heard,
Where is the way out?
Is there one?
Hold the chalice, drink it’s unholy liquid.
Feast on flesh of leper corpses,
You have been called to sit with The Beast,
To make Evil your wrath,
To suffer the Good,
And make eternal night.
Smash skulls, rip ribs apart,
Devour your victims with the Power of Evil.
Relish, as you draw the blood

Hound Bastard the Almighty One

The day of dirt has arrived.
The Pigs lay worship beyond.
Take me oh fantastic Houndlord,
Make love to me hairy Deathmonger.
I am humble before you as I quiver.
You petty horrible little weaklings,
You disgust Me with your tremendous thoughts.
Skiving little wench.
What a moment it was,
When I was all powerful.
Commanding the Legions of Hounds.
Eyeballs were nibbled
As the Gore-Goon travelled
Through the Valley of the Carcai.
Breathtaking scenes of tremendous barbaric
Dismemberment was all that I dreamt.
What a nice dream.
If only.

The Sentinel

At the window he sits,
Majestic-like on his throne.
Evil man with bestial sins,
Of unorthodox trials.
The gatekeeper, the gatewatcher,
None shall pass.
His wrath is one that brings asunder,
The poor.
Priest, sacrifice pure deranged blood,
Of the unwanted mutant.

Here sits the watcher, the one who determines.
All vile shall enter,
The emporium of horrific torture,
Till no more shall the Evil One judge.

Let him be judged,
And impaled on the Spikes of Satan

Crypthor’s Awakening

Devastation of almighty souls,
Unholy withered bodies, screeching pain.
Rotting giblets, lay worship,
To the blasphemic effigy.
Gnawed victims, release unforeseen holocaust.
The awakening is certain,
Forth it hath been writ.
Come fourth wicked one, arise unhappy one,
Shed your death and suffering among us,
The ones that know nothing,
Of your theriomorphic thoughts.
Speak, O’ Bastard Beast,
Let us obey.

Final Prayer

Encephalitis, a growth inside your head.
Say goodbye at Lucifer’s gates of Death.
Forth it hath been said, you must die.
Amputation, you will suffer, flesh lies rotting.
The stench of carcasses brings evil festerings,
Of non-mortal ones,
The Dark Unholy Beasts.
See your life slip away, no more today.

For Satan he does not care,
Say your Final Prayer.

The Wrong-Doer

Run, I must Run,
My Breath, I am losing.
The insane man is close behind me,
Laughing barbarically as he swings
His Axe.
Oh, what a sensation as
The blunt instrument slices my back open.
Face down in my guts, I lie.
The brain juice it smells so vile,
But yet so sweet.
His thunderous boots trod down on my skull.
His hands tear me open
With a bellowing Laugh.

Tossed into the Infernal Pits of Death

Sins, I have many,
For I am a sinful druid.
The path of utmost darkness,
Is the way.,
For all my Dark Ones.
What a way, what a slaughter.
No mother, dead daughter.
Misty desires, clear excellence.
Pathological lust of the Doofug.
I have had visions of mayhemic gore,
Dismemberment, disembowelment,
Disengaged from the waist.

Ah, Ha Ha Ha Ha.
I do not care.
Praise yourself with your petty
Little fusions.
I shall soon be the one.
The Master, The Being, The Coming,
The Doorfug, The Power, The Terror,
The Evil, The Holocaust, The Unseen,
The Forgotten, The Lost, The Onslaught,
The Fear,
The Death.

Spine Crusher

Uggghh, Aarrgghh. Run, Run, Crawl.
Screams, crunching iron, beautiful death.
Evil metal pumping crushing destructive
Smashing machine generates onwards.
The splendid automobile likes to harass,
And annoy the living with sights of
Immense torture, death and bad-evil deeds.
Walloping sounds from the broken vertebra.
Happy pleasant young innocent children,
Splattered by next-of-kin’s infected gizzards.
Tomorrow, no. Death, yes.
Oh Death so handsome, come to them,
Relieve the few left of their peril,
With the dark contraption.

Yes, beastly engine, pump onwards,
Kill mankind, defecate on tiny children,
And rumble and roar with contempt

Altar of Supreme Evil

Chants are murmured, in the darkest night.
While the dog-servant whines
In agony.
His master grins and gloats for a while
As the power of the Blackest Death takes
The Altar is prepared.
Set for one.

Whispers shrivel down the tunnel, as darkness
Lurks warily.
Arms chopped off,
Eyes gouged out,
The Master is Superior.
All bow in his immense presence.
Sitting upon the altar he surveys
The peasants that fall before him.
He rips them apart with bare hands.
For the Altar has the Power
Of Supreme Evil.

Valley of the Carcai

25304 b.c.
The Year of our Master.
He arose to crush the fleeing infidels.
With a mighty swoop the Living
Were not.

He played with children
In a beautiful way.
Fatherly in all ways.
Master, show me your passions.
Express the needs of the shaded few.

They were flogged to the valley for
64 Decades.
And then,
Then the great slaughter took place.
He slaughtered for us.
We are his spew-springs.
Lovely little people are we.
Helping each other everyday.

Scourged at the Foot of the Imperial Gates of Satan

No! Please, please let me go,
Oh red-horned-devils.
I am the wrong person.
No. Ieeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
Chain me elsewhere. To the Rock of Quarthra,
But no, not at the gates so very Imperial.
My body is stained from the blood of
The Victims.
The blackest urge of certain death
Oozes within me.
The holy priests smile and nod in
Gloating at me, waving at me
With googly-eyed eyes.

All goes quiet,
But the low hum of the Bastard.
Louder and louder it pumps up speed.
The blades slice heads, fitch, fitch, fitch.
The lake of organs a sight to be aware of.
My back is sliced open.
I die.

The Hot Winds of Death

Calm, Sombre.
I sit in the valley.
Noooooo! IEEEEE!!!
Sheer pulverisation I witness.
My legs are wafers.
Where are my feet?
Disembowelled at the waist, insides slither
Moist, damp, raw monsters are distraught.
Gabbling twits, rambling bastards,
Leave the Valley.
I wait as the sky roars.
The spirits wander, searching out the few.
The ones that know little of these
I will decapitate them.. I will slice them
And eat their entrails.
For I am hungry.

Eat Your Guts

Melting skin, guts overflowing,
Brains boiling, intestine pit.
The evil feast is prepared.
A meal fit for the disgraceful beast.
Desires of death, a hunger of power.
The holy-hound-lord’s father sits.
A bastard born on the spew of sperm.
The rotten giblet gnawed and chewed.
Outrageous infernos prey on the nice ones,
Huddled insanely the deformed midget snarls,
While the repugnant corpse moans in delight,
At the beautiful beast, so pregnant,
So scabied.


Splendid, My work is complete.
Arise, my creation. Now it is time to mutilate.
Nothing can stop me now.
I am all powerful.
With one crush the world will be mine.
Snivel, grovel, you bastard dogs.
Into the pits of neverending torture.
Arms torn from sockets.
Intestines sucked from insides.
Brains oozing from nostrils.
Appendix tossed aside.
Kidneys flung over the Hill of Darkest Evil.
Hearts go missing, lungs fall to the ground.
Bile duct is eaten, while pancreas is chewed.
Penis is sliced, as testes are gargled.
Scrotum sac stretched over satanic candle,
Scream, you pig dogs, filthy fools.
I smirk now as you fall before me.
Feast off the flesh carnage.
Rivers of guts, mountains of limbs,
Death is certain, Life is not.
Come hence bitch, all bow to the