Death Is The Answer
Autopsy
3:41Out past the twisted trees Is where I go to feed A realm of grey gut-wrench Where clouds of flies breed stench This hole was dug long ago By a freak sicker than I The family curse ran deep Until I made them die Evisceration Horrified looks in dying eyes Prayers unanswered Just a god of death with a thirsty knife Collecting the harvests Discarding the rest The precious entrails Are all that's left Down in the hole Future feasts Ripen and rot Morbid delicacies Squeals of torment fill my mind Ancestral innards fill my teeth Kidneys, hearts, and livers Intestines, stomachs, and brains Fuel the supreme bastard beast