Gastronomicon - Slugdge

Something stirs from an aeon ago

In the centre of a circle of cyclopean stones

Incantations from a mucus bound tome

As the cult makes preparations for their lord’s welcome home

Chanting dark and cacophonous rhymes

While the thunder and lightning rends a hole in the sky

Rising tendrils of ash now encircle the sun

Turning black from the blast of the Greatfather’s drum

For there can be only one.

There’s a pulsating heart in the midst of the void

Twisted maladous melodies which create and destroy

Through a ritual of blood in a valley of doom

He assumes human form on an altar of shrooms

Expulsion of the outcast mind

Cursed to wander in the gardens of slish for all time

For this book is the key, and the psyche;

a door

To a cosmic cornucopia of esoteric lore

Cursed words, scribed in slime

Spoken in reverse when the stars are aligned

Only under the black sun, may these mortals partake in his conjuration

Trapped in a spell of the Gastronomicon.

And beneath the shattered sky the earth will grieve

Except for man, who shall be granted no reprieve

On this land which once gave life, now lies clear

In the poisoned depths the wreckage of ten thousand years

Blasphemers of true nature

Hiding from the inner self

Virtues that don’t exist

Deny genetic heritage

The circle is complete

We must return to the earth

Usurpers of your masters

You have become mere facades

Nought but pale reflections

A species in dejection

The circle is complete

He is risen, all must suffer

It has begun, the beginning of the end of all things to come