time slips, fleh rottes.
the heats make you sweet
you whant to run you whant
tohide but the maggotes are already
inside brrowing away like the sands of time
you scream and yell but your still in hell
no heaven for you becuse your ******** scrwed.
you called me a b***h like im the one to be balmed.
if i coud i watch every day
like it my own privet show. i just laug away watching you wallo in pain.
oh how i wish i could stay but i must go away cuse the smell of your dieing soul is anof to drive even satin away. that must be bad i have to say when even
the devil walk away. the flesh rotts and the bones melt soon their will be nothing left. the maggotes are feating away soon you soul will be the same and all i can say is welcome to your personal hell.
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