Interpret:

Cryptopsy

Album:

Blasphemy Made Flesh

Man-made doom bled death from the sky; 
to all but a few, salvation was denied 
Heavenly father, son and holy ghost,
save your servants (those of us who aren't toast) 


The not-yet-dead discovered that to be 
a nuclear family means a whole new thing; 
All-too-trusting shambling pseudomorphs 
put their trust in a man of the cloth 


Make them hate you, rotting cleric...
Remember, you are pu of my loins, you are pus 


Give voice to your left side, let me in:
I've sawn the seeds of your redemption;
In subhumanicide, I am your guide:
seventy-seven times make them die


The sun is shining on a brand new day
Blackened corpses smolder where they slain;
Self-flagellation prompts him to confess:
Bless me father, for I made this mess


Immolation meant to purify sin wracked souls 
Let diseased bodies die; survivors twice lost: 
Betrayed in fire, by the Swine of the Cross