Slavenous hordes of lustful births.
Entrance gained through open wounds.
Eager to return you to the earth.
Only when the shell is eaten hollow.
Worm-ridden, pencil thin.
Legions of parasites writhe within.
The skin, it's squirming.
These worms are yearning.
Fevered skin is burning.
For the flesh they're yearning.
Wretched maggot bastard.
Irascible and rotten-hearted.
A miserable soul.
Slowly suffocating at the bottom of a deep hole.
That keeps on getting deeper and deeper.
Rotting forever.
Maggot and man.
Living together.
Slow, inexorable.
A lifetime of boils.
A perpetual crawl.
In a mangled sprawl.
What would it take to win them over?
Colonising, heartless, insectile death-swarm.
Please just bring the end a little closer.
Exorcise the leech.
Or just rip the life right out of me.
supported by 7 fans who also own “Wretched Maggot Bastard”
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