The sound of vomiting to my ears' like singing Now I'm beginning to become erect With illness I'm obsessed in the beds of the fallen I rest A fixation amplified the smell here is what I like best Feverishly combing the buckets of waste Wrapping myself in the filth ridden sheets Raping the shells of the comatose To fulfill my needs Photographing bedsores Cultured by my sick neglect It's more then a job It's a love for me to walk this close with death When you hear a flat line You know surely I'll be near To when the reaper's sickle is drawn I am ever aware I wish I could pull these strings In death there are finer things Malpractice forever be my bitter name How quickly life does fade away One flip of the rivers man coin Could send you screaming to your grave Grief stricken family watches on Ceaseless prayers for an only son I'm afraid that nothing can be done The moment has finally come The wrath of a God exemplified To the pearly gates He'll soon arrive To leave here his husk in this room of white I'm quivering at thought Pull the plug I'm begging you Take the ride to the cold and blue The reaper's yellowed lichen finger Aims ever so true The origins of disease I have witnessed in my dreams The flooding of the blackest blood To quench my fetid needs I wish I could pull these strings In death there are finer things Malpractice forever be my bitter name I wish I could pull these strings In death there are finer things © CRUSHING SKULLS MUSIC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com