Luyện nghe bài hát Phobophile

In the
With a screaming amputee...
Its completion solely
On my needs...
Said stumps
Are my way of saying... "Thank you
for being you."
Its fear better than its limbs.

Terror of
I from the slowly dying damned
Monsters live my eyes;
I let them out and die.
And all the grave
That come for their piece of
I them dead things..
The wretched living are mine

mounts with the body count
To which predicts a decline
In all of creation,
Can there be a that's better than this?

I mark my
their blood and excritement
And adipocere...
I can my way in the dark;
My fulfilment is necromanic
And abusive..
through the eyes of a mortician

They've "caught" me, as call it;
My teeth and my have betrayed me..
Nevermore!
Tests to my rationale,
The likes of which feeble minds have
seen.

blotters,
My responses to inspire fear...
From my side,
The amoral speaks;
"These butterflies,
I see a face I'd to burn."

Of the with lies,
And my
Alability to and be me,
Or whoever want;
I've known all minds by right.