In the kitchen
With a screaming triple amputee;
It's complection depends soley
On my needs
Said amputee stumps
Are my way of saying;
"Thank you just for being you"
It's fear tastes better than it's limbs

Terror of mortality,
I draw from the slowly dying damned
Monsters live behind my eyes;
I let them out and people die
And all the grave worms
That come for their piece of meat?
I give them dead things
The wretched living are mine alone

Fright mounts with the body count
To which anthropomancy predicts a decline
In all of God's creation,
Can there be a lifestyle that's better than this?

I mark my territory
With their blood and excritement
And adipocere
I can find my way in the dark;
My fulfilment is habitually necromanic
And anal abusive
Seen through the eyes of a mortician

They've "caught" me, as they call it;
My teeth and my semen have betrayed me
Nevermore!
Tests to gauge my rationale,
The likes of which these feeble minds have
Never seen

Rorschach blotters,
My responses to which inspire fear
From my lizard side,
The amoral alien speaks;
"These aren't butterflies,
I see a face I'd like to burn"

Obfuscation
Of the authorities with lies,
And my natur
Alability to charm and be me,
Or whoever they want;
I've known all minds by divine right