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All human life forms are piles |
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Of stinking, rotting bowels |
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You now have the choice to die |
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Or live and rot away |
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No chance of a painless death |
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The cancer is starting in your head |
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It spreads it's seeds through your veins |
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You'll suffer the most horrible pains |
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You feel it lowering down your back |
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Your fingers are starting to turn black |
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Although you are praying to your god |
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You will slowly start to rot |
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Rotting is the only way of life |
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The stench is of the pus of your wife |
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You are getting weaker every day |
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It won't last a day is what they say |
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As your skin drips from your face |
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You're a part of rotting human race |
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You know that it won't last long |
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As you cough up pieces of lung |
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As your shit comes through your mouth |
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Your soul soon will go south |
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Rotting is the only way of life |
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The stench is of the pus of your wife |