The Art Of Homicide (a Trochaic) Lyrics

found alone: stripped, beaten - sliced beyond ID
six days dead, drawing flies
missing toes and teeth
maggots had begun to boil underneath her face
beetles f*cked and shit in her hair
and dined on the decay

dined on the decay sun spilled down on her breasts: livid, turning blue
crucifix between her legs
seems was jammed straight through
innards stretched from her waist, wrapped around her neck
perfect lust in her life
perfect art in death

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