歌词
with a hose no one will ever find you
The smell of your carrion hangs low in the street weeks of returning to relax in the meat
Butchery/morgue meets day-spa retreat
The smell of the carnage begin the excretement
Choice picked tidbits of ligaments
I mix for an afternoon sludge soup constantly craving, needing to eat ****
No escape from this place life condemned to rot pulpy ulcerous filaments gagged snot and clots
专辑信息
18.Colon-Blo