Laughing, Drooling In Your Face

Grinning Outcasts Of Our Race

Tied From Hands And Feet And Waist

You Look Up In Fear



A Horrid Stench You Do Behold

The One Of Rot, Mildew And Mold

As A Cretin Grabs Ahold

Of Your Testicles



Start To Cry Out, But You're Stopped

Your Mouth Is Stifled With A Cock

Which Was Removed From Your Own Stocks

The Laughter Carries On



Bid Your Balls A Sad Farewell

As You Curse Them All To Hell

Then You Realize Too Well

Hell Is Where You Are

Dismembered Slowly, Feet To Head

Not Soon Enough You Will Be Dead

Your Purpose: Keep These Monsters Fed