Luyện nghe bài hát Phobophile

In the
With a triple amputee...
Its completion depends
On my needs...
Said stumps
Are my way of saying... "Thank you
Just for you."
Its fear tastes than its limbs.

Terror of
I draw from the slowly dying
Monsters live behind my
I let out and people die.
And all the grave
That come for piece of meat?
I them dead things..
The living are mine alone

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
With their blood and
And adipocere...
I can find my way in the
My is habitually necromanic
And abusive..
through the eyes of a mortician

They've "caught" me, as call it;
My and my semen have betrayed me..
Nevermore!
to gauge my rationale,
The likes of which these 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
to charm and be me,
Or they want;
I've known all by divine right.