The Dunwitch Horror (Wilbur Whateley)
Salem Burning
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In a desolate
Decrepit village
A man deemed dead
Due to his disfigurement
It ages rapidly, shunned by
Its appearance
A hideous figure,
Inhumane
Animals despise it, and fear it
Due to an unnatural,
Inhuman order
Emitting from its body
A foul stench
long tendrils
Emanating from its body
Indoctrinated by his grandfather
To do his bidding
Into a darkened sermons
And the study of witchcraft
I Wilber Whateley
Son of yog-sothoth
I have grown in power
A colossal entity
Summoned by the dark
Gathering up the Necronomicon
To call upon the great old ones
Aged and half insane
Father oh can you hear me
Dunwitch will fall
The village engulfed with an undying
Vengeance
Endless madness
Enter the psychosis
No one will survive
Watch as
They scatter like roaches
Now they finally see
What they have made me become
My true form
The Devine abomination has been
Reborn its to late
Limb are ripped from there
Bodies never to be seen again