Luyện nghe bài hát Misfortune

Like to the slaughter
He them to their death
Morbid thoughts fill twisted
A for tearing flesh

Friendly face, a
He them after school
Flat chested, six year old
The that makes him drool

his vile tool
Child to the bed
Rams his rod, the pelvis
Sheets stained and red

Frustration his mind apart
The pain in his brain, him insane

His tool hosts, a magnitude of corpses
and scattered
Bloodied strewn on the floor
bodies slashed and tattered

Sickened brain, lusts
Feeble bodies torn
paints with body fluids
Disgusting art

Stark mad
horrid dreams
Horrors of his made reality

More than flesh and blood can
Raging
Feeble drifts away
Corpse lies and cold