Time to feed the necrovore
They’re clawing at the butcher door
Addicts of flesh, they gotta have more
Meat section groupies in a grocery store
Licking fresh blood off of a kill floor
Dollars paid to make more gore
I swear, you got zero clue what your brain is for
Having empathy for others, well, that’s quite a chore
Murder house, & flesh peddler patron meat whöré
Soulless, and rotted to the core
When a pig screams for their life, you yell ‘encore’
Sentience is something you choose to ignore
If this earth had an ass, you be it’s sore
Oh, necrovore…it’s you I abhor

Total Liberation

Dig Out Your Soul