I Write Poetry
To the earth you're now enslaved, to the creatures long depraved
Flesh has now turned to grey, as the larve gnaw away
As you rot in your smallish tomb, insects care not how you met your doom
In your casket eternally lie. Many were pleased to see you die
Flesh has now turned to grey, as the larve gnaw away
As you rot in your smallish tomb, insects care not how you met your doom
In your casket eternally lie. Many were pleased to see you die