Seperated body parts on the ground where I lay.
After 3 weeks of death. Imma mess,
Rip the lung off my chest, to stand to catch a breath.
Drop a handfull of flesh, scratch my head and access.
Alright. I'm war torn and battered, body soaking up maggots,
The pants around my waist, the only fabric I have left.
My stomache's buldging, skin burstin open.
My inside's are outside, can barely keep my mind focused.
My senses heightened, intentions on fightin,
I let the voice inside me start to drive me.
I've got infection in my blood I'm cold as ice is,
You ain't never seen me like this, I'm almost life-less.
I gotta walk with a bob in my step, search for flesh
Or anything left fresh enough to digest.
[ Post made via Mobile Device ]
