Whitechapel - Devirgination Studies - Текст песни

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 slut back to hell
 Another whore to seek to fondle and misuse
 Back to the grave to exhume again