Luyện nghe bài hát Misfortune

Like cattle to the
He lures them to death
Morbid thoughts fill twisted
A crave for flesh

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

Lubricates his tool
Child to the bed
his rod, the pelvis snaps
Sheets stained and red

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

His tool hosts, a magnitude of corpses
Torn and
meat strewn on the floor
From bodies and tattered

brain, repulsive lusts
Feeble torn apart
Finger paints body fluids
abstract art

Stark mad
Re-enacting dreams
Horrors of his made reality

More than and blood can bear
Raging
Feeble drifts away
Corpse still and cold