| Why are the limbs on the korpse so twisted
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| Why are the ribs so smashed up and burning
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| Listen to this shit and you’ll hear why
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| This is the tale of the korpse on the grave
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| Insanity — a fukking twisted rotted body
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| Back in the death days the korpse got fukked up
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| A pounding of madness grew like a plagie
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| With pen and paper I drew death in anger
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| Now this is the tale of the korpse on the grave
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| War… bolt
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| The korpse on the grave
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| Pain beyond death is real, thrust a pin into the skull
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| Silent screams echo through coffins, twisting spine naps, cracks
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| To achieve the feeling of death
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| Light a candle flame in darkness
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| Summons chilled thoughts of horror
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| Expel the safety of humanity — insanity
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| Felled body into a hole, lept back on a throne
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| Cracked, split, bent, deformed — a must for getting evil
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| Creep the visions of evil inside
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| Draw your pupils into his eyeball
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| It’s fallen from a bloody socket
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| Feel the dryness of cold fire — it’s crying
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| EVEN THOUGH IT’S DEAD, IT’S DYING
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| Bones must split as tissue dries up
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| Horns sprout yet crack as they emerge
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| One eye’s eaten the other falls out
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| Sat upon a smashed up tombstone
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| The colder the setting, the drier the bloo
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| Nails on fingers lengthen to claws
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| In different directions they point from the hands
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| Wronged by the pen as I draw
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| Looking crook and fukked up as they can…
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| Shattered teeth, some blunt, some pointed
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| A dentist’s delight, the korpses nightmare
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| Split jaw hangs suspended in laughter
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| Spikes on spine lead up to the skull
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| Rough as guts in design for disaster
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| Rusted, the pins and thorns spread poison
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| Sadistik Exekution in a picture
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| That was the tale of the korpse on the grave
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| Insanity — a fukking twisted rotted body |