Letras
By night I return to the storage shed
Anxious to catch a glimpse of the dead
Nervously, I unbolt the door
Making my way into this abatoir
Hot air rushes out the aperture
A putrid gust of flattus and methane
Inhaling the rotting fumes as I choke
Hit by a wave of nausea I try to restrain
At last I regard the bloated stiffs
Terribly dislimbed and deceased
My plumpened prizes now swollen by putrefaction
A makeshift mortuary for the obese
Their corpulence exceeded solely
By the foulness of their smell
Their girth only expanded upon in death
The fleshy carcasses bloat and swell
Postmortem hypertrophy plagues the hefty cadavers
Their portly bodies now thoroughly dead
The incessant buzzing of insects as necrovores slaver
Fills the tepid chamber whose walls I've stained red
I hacked through their layers of blubbering fat
Some were gutted, some punctured, some razed
When I finished I found them decidedly flat,
If not yet dead, then at least bleeding and dazed
In this dingy shack I had left them to rot
And then departed the undignified scene
The makeshift crypt they inhabit now fetid and hot
The curdling innards turned a sickly shade of green