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When you find a rotten torso |
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Lying in a stinking bog |
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Be sure to check out the surroundings |
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And don't call the cops |
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Bring it home to your cottage |
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Ane feast on this delicacy |
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Wandering in the marshy grounds |
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Searchin for some leftovers |
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Putrid stench that leads your way and reparations are already done |
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The dinner is served |
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You want it bad |
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You carve its bile |
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Motivated by your urge |
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Smell it, and squeeze out the stinking pus |
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Drink it, and gargle on the juicy yellow goo |
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Feel it, and caress this stinking piece of meat |
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Eat it, and feel the tender meat between your teeth |
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Now your home, in your calm cottage |
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All alone, you serve your dinner |
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Decomposed torso on a plate |
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This days fetch, your special menu |
