Weep or gnash thy teeth, but do not lo nor behold, for its sight turns tides and melts flesh. The beast has risen from the murky depths, its arrival heralded by a terrifying bloop, and with it came the unholy hymns that remained obscured by the thalassic deeps for . . . several years.

Though their names ought never be spoken, their titles were clear as soon as the malevolent sonance carried along the wind, and into the minds of the innocent:

Walking On Sunshine (revised)
From Clot To Crust, From Squirt To Dust
Choo Momma R Teh Fatteh
The Adult Bile Sock Will Eat You When You Sleep
I Cry Bile
The Blister On My Eye
Damn These Beats
Walk Tall, My Man

It was then clear that there was no God to have mercy on our souls.