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Incisions made, tearing flesh, ripping organs, strung up to bleed, gravity showers you in your own filth. |
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Still squirming, eyes open as I gaze at my masterpiece, these gaping wounds tell a story. |
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Your life is worth nothing. |
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You're a worthless cunt, believing if you have a choice to live or die. |
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As I nail your torso to the floor, they pierce vital organs. |
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What do you have left to offer? |
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Eyes rolling back, bloodshot eyes, bleeding from all orifices, bloodmarking time like an hour glass, you cannot scream with your mouth sewn shut. |
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Violently hacking into your throat, I finish decapitation, another lifeless carcass left to rot. |
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I've conquered man. |
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I am the birth. |
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I am death. |
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Upon the table lies a corpse, a chunk of rotting flesh, a work of art, a perfect kill. |
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I'm basking in the stench. |
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I'll keep your ears as fucking trophies, hanging round my neck. |
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To hear the sounds of screams echo till the very end, I am the death creator. |
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I am the fucking end. |