Hide my face, my geatures of pain Is there any point of having a name I stare in front, I see only red As I lay here upon my death bed
Cut, gut, beaten, eaten
The cannibals feast upon my innards Using bark to eat their dinner Moist muscle, inner bile Handfuls of viscera Being eaten in piles
Eaten Cut, gut, beaten, eaten
A half eaten carcass soaked in blood Rotting in the heat, and mud Cavity wounds, Gaping holes I'm left disregarded by these cannibal trollsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
