Morbus chron

Death strikes

Morbus chron
Tempter of mankind, master of hell
Thrown down his pit, forever to dwell
Blinded humans trust in fantasy
Excruciating pain, their destiny

Lord of the dominion resides in his tomb
Festering on sinners, lifes to consume
Penetrated by his "wicked rod"
Rectum bursts, drenched in blood

Carved from God, once his slave
Lord of banished, we'll never obey
Torso and mind I fill with my disease
Turn your insides out, i'll do what I please

Death Strikes.. (..a couple of times)

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