Diagnostic of a sick society
Who feeds the membrane of a common cancer
Which infects minds to fulfill the empty
The craving hunger to contaminate the others
Necrosis of your soul
For the insemination of everyone
Nothing is worth to be your own
Neurotic are the infertiles praying for taint
Orifices and wounds they handfill with pus
Incapable of procreating they lost their purity thus
Parasitic embryo maturity will gain...
And then it rises as a clone of a dead larva
Blindfolded with pride they contemplate the ba*tard
Incomplete organism drowning in it's own saliva
Starving now it is festing on it's mother
Gangrene of your soul
For the sporadisation of everyone
Nothing is worth to be your own
Illusional conformity
The goods of flesh's impurity
"The corporation is there to watch over the well spreading of the epidemic, publicizing the world-wide application of the microbes. They show the happy ill-ones in terminal phase parading, and everyone runs to get another tumor injection."
While her pestilent offspring feeds from her last flesh remains
She savors convulsing her last nausea
Seeking now the orgasms of glory and earning
To be a part of this new civilisation's gonorrhea
Through the cataracts of her eyes she sees a blurred image
Repulsing citizens: here's appearing the healer!
She spits blood laughing, pointing out the outrage
As he walks away she feels the doubt take in her