by Nick Gisburne
Surrendering to pleasure is the key
With decadence our menu is replete
Voracious though your appetites may be
Finesse in feeding complements the meat
Each dish is served to savour as it screams
The shiver in the sweat expands the taste
Our blood is pure, a virgin’s darkest dreams
Indulge, for these are sins to be embraced
An elegant array of living food
With varying intensities of harm
Is best enjoyed with friends at midnight, nude
The restaurant is ripe with ruthless charm
We kidnap daily; every feast is fresh
Be wicked, at Jehovah’s House of Flesh
