Devirgination Studies Songtext

von Whitechapel

Now that I have my trophy
Of your anatomy
Your stiff can be excised aberrantly
Convulsions transpire you're seeping suppuration
Our intamacy is arcane to culture
These ethics I contain in my arsenal of pleasure
Fail to be appreciated
Your proposition isn't good enough
My expectations don't meet yours
In due time I'll dictate your vile form
Into my incapable hands and claim you for my own
You're born... into... these hands... again
Send the slut back to hell
Send the slut back to hell
Send the slut back to hell
Send the slut back to hell
Hell...
Another whore to seek
To fondle and misuse
Back to the grave
To exhume again