implements of hell - catacombs lyrics
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if you’re not too busy disintegrating, please accept this teabag (in your throat)
i made the slit with the knife you left in my back (that night)
rotting must be the new trend (for sl_ts)
the rust on my knife will plague tracks (across you)
as a smile crawls onto my face, i learn how your (blood tastes)
desecration, suffering, elimination, torture
eradication, rotting, insemination
you can look forward to all these things?
how’s it feel to know i’m the last thing you’ll ever see?
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