Stormlord - Under The Boards (195, M.A.) lyrics

There is a house in London Where even in winter time The windows are always open wide There is a house in London Where incense burns at all hours Concealing a much less pleasant smell A sour stench that mingles with The scent of burning oil There in Melrose Avenue So many guests come and go Some come to stay Some of the guests come to stay At one hundred ninety five So many people come and go But too many guests come to stay Neatly lined under the boards of the floor Summertime The maggots are crawling everywhere Smoke can't keep the flies away Dennis finds harder to tidy up the house Tossing salt upon the rotten flesh Wiping it away to rid the bodies of worms Extracting bowels, liver, heart, and lungs Dissecting corpses, packing limbs and head To carry them easily to their funeral pyre