A corpse should be left well alone Only an honest death will cure me now Yearning for the final thread of my neck to let go My wrist and arteries spill onto an astral resting place I'm bound to suffering eternal A God slowly decays A corpse washed upon the shore Harvest the blood, partake of the crusade Stomach the guilt Holy mutations of an eldritch being An honest death to cure the ailment Mutilation of the innocent weeping, condemned Purge the guilt from inside me My penance is pouring from my wrist