The Local Flavour Songtext
von Amputated

Fashioned from flesh, an infinite source of meats,
My children flock, to this familiar feast,
never suspecting, their love for me is blinding,
to them a saint, the doting hand that feeds,
but history will mark me as a beast,

Hiding my true nature, whilst amongst the sheep,
like lambs to slaughter upon them I will feast,


watching the lost wander, without direction,
I bless them with purpose, to be my sustenance

In my kitchen countless victims, I dine upon them, and dredge their shame

carving the flesh from their bones so tenderly

I have mastered the art of butchery,
all my victims, selected carefully,
I document them and then preserve their organs,
I claim the best, the finest cuts for me,
I stew the rest, and feed it to the pure

never think to question, the source of this treat,
unwitting communion, of this divine cuisine