Now that I have my trophy of your anatomy

Your stiff can be excised aberrantly

Convulsions transpire you're seeping suppuration

Our intimacy 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

Another whore to seek to fondle and misuse

Back to the grave to exhume again