Luyện nghe bài hát Misfortune

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

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

his vile tool
Child to the bed
Rams his rod, the snaps
stained brown and red

Frustration tears his mind
The in his brain, making him insane

His tool shed hosts, a magnitude of
and scattered
Bloodied meat on the floor
From bodies slashed and

Sickened brain, repulsive
Feeble bodies torn
Finger paints with fluids
abstract art

Stark mad
horrid dreams
Horrors of his mind reality

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