Morbus chron

Dead body pile necrophile

Morbus chron
Twenty years of gathering
Hundred open graves
Friendship with the corpses
Pleasure slaves
Stack in a pile
Who'll be first?
Decaying virgin flesh
Fulfilling my thirst

Dead
Body pile
Dead body pile necrophile

Removing maggots from my stick
Legs will open, i will lick
Taste of pus and rotten death
Up and down 'til i'm out of breath

Dead body love
Fits like a glove
No more rejects
Moving on to the next

Dead
Body pile
Dead body pile necrophile

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