My face is washed in blood
From your three-day-old corpse.
I cut you up into little pieces
And put you in a trunk in the basement.
Sometimes I eat who I have killed,
But you were special... Your deserved better.
The first day you were hung by a stick
That was pushed through your ears.
The second day I took you down
And pulled out all of your hair.
I cut a line around your skull
And pulled back the skin.
The third day, I pinned your eyes shut forever.
Two fullmoons you stayed inside
Bone and ligament in a sea of red.
Hot bile burned in my stomach,
But I'd slit your neck again and again.
I thought I gave you a proper burial,
But you cannot die.
You'll do to me what I did to you
I see it in your eyes.
You want to give me a proper burial,
You want to help me die.
You raise tha axe over your decayed head
And bring it down between my eyes.

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