Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

There’s no time to waste as she sees
Maggot filled flesh
Dangling from the trees
She hits her knees, prays to her god
She hits her knees, praise to the damned

A man, with flesh upon his face
Breathes a requiem of her fate
And with his chainsaw
He’ll write
Her obituary

Inserted through delicate skin
The blade starts to pulse within
She should have stayed away
Instead she found her grave

She lays, now under the ground
Where worms, begin to feed
Silence, the only sound
It is, deafening

Now stare deep into the face of hell
As she rises from the grave
She’ll seek the face of her killer
Declaring his fate

And I swear
There will be blood
To paint these walls
With the bile
Of her killer