Whitechapel - Articulo Mortis

Bludgeoned face. Licking my fingers of decrepit funk My dear your face is so blank. Where did you get those feelings. Please don't leave help me live. Can't control myself. Dilated eyes. Pale white skin. I'm laughing in your face. Your skin entrenches me. Now you're fucking dead I can't be certain your remains will be insured. Beyond the grave is longer than you think I saw the first slut mangled in front of me Of course controlling my actions was not an easy task It wasn't long before I found myself indulging. Against my will I please myself once more Breathe. Fucking breathe. I swear you'll reap. While I sew your cunt. And now you rot...