Leeched I, Flatline
Like a blade in the skull, it's fused to the marrow
The machines wash the stains from my throat and bring the marks into my already burnt skin
Sew the stomach so the eggs won't leak
Crush the remaining stillborn
Discard the flesh
The harvest draws close
But how will they find me?
I won't leave until my guts are full
The fluid that flows through my veins
This blade, it just won't dull
The soil and the drugs, it's all the same
The blood and fangs, rooted in bone
Washing over the guard
Roaming the plains of sand and salt
Another hand tears free
But the virus remains
The slums mourn at night
The sound of terror, the sound of shock
The whores now roam, feasting
Like a blade in the skull, it's fused to the marrow
The machines wash the stains from my throat and bring the marks into my already burnt skin
Sew the stomach so the eggs won't leak
Crush the remaining stillborn
Discard the flesh
The wolves are feeding in masses
Birthed straight into the sterile fluid
The sun, it sears my eyes
You saw me as a rat
Is that the same body I taunted?
Here comes the machine
