Whitechapel - Devirgination Studies lyrics

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 s*ut back to hell Another who*e to seek to fondle and misuse Back to the grave to exhume again