The Gala of Gore

Radiant repugnance A dazzling decay Alluring abhorrence A fetid bouquet Wafting up from the dungeon Where the corpses are laid Prepped for the butcher Exquisitely aged With evil elation And blasphemous bliss I sharpen my cleaver And carve into flesh Each cut unique In flavor and feel Yet only the finest Will do for this meal A gala of gore A festering feast We indulge like kings Before we ride east To the foot of the mountains Where the kingdom doth lie I empty my chalice And gaze to the sky