Woorden: Cannibal Corpse. Gore Obsessed. Hung And Bled.

Trying to conceal his murders
The maniac stabs the heart, stops the flow
Cleaning up the blood's a problem
He now solves, hooks through heels
Hung and bled

Corpses are suspended by their feet
Swaying, dripping, bloody piece of meat
Fastened to the ceiling leaking gore
Splashing down to the floor

Corpses he suspended turning pale
All the blood drained into his grail
Fastened to the ceiling, dry and dead
Fluids of life have been shed
Hung and bled

Congealing fluids fester the stench
Revolting septic gruel
Putrid slop licks the surface of his dungeon
A gruesome meal, rancid feast, live on death

Corpses dangle, lifeless, gray and cold
Rotting flesh, the meat hooks lose their hold
Stenching body falls onto the ground
Bones and flesh form a mound

Sanguinary killer will not stop
Hanging dead replacing those that drop
Blood, he drinks like wine, their flesh, his bread
In his maw dripping red
Hung and bled

Oozing blood the butcher's victims
Soak the concrete, putrefy
Halls of dread draped with death
Ornate crimes, stalactites made of flesh
Festooned with innards

Gaining life, sentient place
The stone walls breathe
Hungry soul, it can think
A genuine living hell

Created by the butcher, he lost control
Owner and property change their roles
Constantly feeding the gluttonous room
He once ruled the chamber, now it's his tomb

Hung by their feet, drained of blood
Swallowed by death, greed of this place
Bodies decay, devoured by evil
Slave to this hell he creates, undying

Corpses are suspended by their feet
Swaying, dripping, bloody piece of meat
Fastened to the ceiling leaking gore
Splashing down to the floor

Corpses he suspended turning pale
All the blood drained into his grail
Fastened to the ceiling, dry and dead
Fluids of life have been shed
Hung and bled