Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Squalor Opera’ by Aborted. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Aborted or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
“”I I am the face of your torment I I am your sin personified With picturesque decay I paint a world full of problems Insanity I am the herald of your misery With lewd demeanour my visions congregate A sickening black hole of debauchery Construed to keep free thought at bay A sickening hole taking control Wallowing in a wasteland A sordid cacophony Shrouded by a terror vision Indoctrinated abomination The grandest farce Misanthropic global diversion Oh morbus operandi Invasive surgery through psychopathic imagery Hypocritical congregation An obnoxious freakshow for the mentally bizarre Extermination policies for the weak and poor We embrace our very end with the greatest amour I I am a vision of madness I I am the end complete With a sickening display I portray all your problems Pure lunacy a mirror of society Oh morbus operandi Invasive surgery through psychopathic imagery Hypocritical congregation An obnoxious freakshow for the mentally bizarre Extermination policies for the weak and poor We embrace our very end with the greatest amour I I am a vision of madness I I am the end complete With a sickening display I portray all your problems Pure lunacy a mirror of society Gluttonous we keep devouring more Moth to a flame brainless necrovores Epitome of the insane we beg for more Enter the Opera Gluttonous we keep devouring more Moth to a flame brainless necrovores Epitome of the insane we beg for more Enter the Opera Gray matter rot a voracious plot No voice of reason it pertains to treason We adore a generation of idiots Damned and doomed we embrace it like fools No thought or reason fill our heads with feces Gray matter rot a voracious plot No thought or reason fill our heads with feces””