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Laughing, drooling in your face |
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Grinning outcasts of our race |
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Tied from hands and feet and waist |
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You look up in fear |
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A horrid stench you do behold |
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The one of rot, mildew and mold |
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As a cretin grabs ahold |
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Of your testicles |
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Start to cry out, but you're stopped |
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Your mouth is stifled with a cock |
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Which was removed from your own stocks |
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The laughter carries on |
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Bid your balls a sad farewell |
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As you curse them all to hell |
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Then you realize too well |
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Hell is where you are |
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Dismembered slowly, feet to head |
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Not soon enough you will be dead |
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Your purpose: keep these monsters fed |
