Becoming One
The Stench of rotting flesh
In my butchers room of death
Play the god
Of our facade—
Choking on your final breath

I need to skin you alive
I need to feed my mind
I need to feast on your soul
Like a snake I'll consume you whole

Little lamb fit for the slaughter
Lying still born in my hands
Tearing flesh, stripped to the bone
This is what my will commands

Frozen death is all that's left
To absorb you and become one
Aching eyes, that you might have met
But you will never ever forget
I need to skin you alive
I need to feed my mind
I need to feast on your soul
Like a snake I'll consume you whole