I hang bolted. Upon the wall of pain. Nailed like a trophy head. Gutted and obscenely spread.
Flesh collector. He's the gutter of the dead.
A creature corrupted. Gut the best of me. Now licking the wounds. From which i bleed.
Ripping myself loose. From the nails that hold me. Steel and rust leaving my battered flesh. Crawling towards the exist. Only to realize. I'm submerged in a cellar. Devoid of all escape.
And here I lay gutted. Awaiting the end. To be a part of a collection. I wanted to be my own.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.