Cerebral Bore

Cock, hard
As we start
The strangest sight to behold
Cadavers
Cold flesh and rock solid boab
A penis
You've only seen in nightmares
So solid,
Old folk and children it scares
Running around, from the cock of your dreams
Fleshy, veiny, scary
From the coffin into parishioners
Watch them run, fucking scared of the boab
Every step they take, they will be consumed
You can't run, up the bum, check out the size of that chode
Pinstripe suit, with a rip in the gooch
He's come for you
He's gone commando, no more shame
Huge pants tent
Morticians fault, he is the one to blame
Open box, with a cock on the rocks
It's a phallic pipe
No more trousers, they are gone
Bifkin cone
Morticians fault, he is the one to blame
We, we shall not survive, we will die
We cannot have a future
Flame grilled, served up for your dinner
Cunt filled, fucked 'till dead, no more tread
Spunk filled, creamy jizz on your tits
You're now infested
Filth...
Feces, now you see, smothered on your face
Milky spunk in your ears, you can't hear a thing