| There’s a room in my house, a tomb of women who need to rot in hell
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| The stench will fill your throat with puss and drain from out your nose
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| Open the door discover dead whores who begged for more now covered in gore
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| Countless remains and piles of scabs putrid remnants cover the floor
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| Some of the kicked and some of them screamed and some of them never seemed to
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| bleed
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| Some of them twitched and some of them kicked and some were forced to take my
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| dick
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| Some of them gushed and some were crushed and some of them paid for their
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| sinful lust
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| Some of them cried and some of them lied, they told me they loved me before
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| they died
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| Through the torture, through the torment I didn’t feel an ounce of regret
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| Carving insides, slashing faces countless bitches put in their places
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| Severed torsos, butchered assholes, skinless bodies put on wood poles
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| Slaughtered tissue, cutout eyeballs, gallons of fluid stain my tombs walls
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| One by one I watch them die, my tomb holds more that meets the eye
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| From rape to torture, beatings too they die, but I have more to do
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| My urges force me to violate
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| Theses bitches in their butchered state
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| Slicing throats while I inject my bloodsoaked member
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| Cumming into their slaughtered sombed
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| Tomb of Scabs
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| Tomb of Scabs
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| Tomb of Scabs |