Like a maggot,
Writhing in a corpse,
Your presence here,
Means that all is lost.

He's used to being a nomad,
But he can't seem to take flight.
His greedy stomach weighs him down,
He's a natural parasite.

With gold he lines his pockets,
With blood he lines his grin,
He'll worm his way into his host,
And he'll eat you from within.

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