Ways Of Torture - Morbus Chron

Ways of Torture.

Caught within a wooden box

With small holes to breath

Taking me somewhere else to die

There my life will cease

Hanging from the ceiling

With my arms around my back

Shoulders dislocated

Faint from pain, all is black

Dreaming of salvation, beauty, life and hope

Waking up by whippings

Fuck, I’m still hanging from a rope

Tube down my throat

Feeding me fat, feeding my goat

Feeding me more

Stomach explodes, gore all over the floor

Dragged through fat and goat

To a room as a doctor takes note

Rodents munch on my leg

With dislocated shoulders I beg

Eaten by the Rats

Ways of Torture.