Stench!

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You’re a walking corps, the stench of death you bear
Stiff and cold you soon will be, and no one’s going to care

Your rotting stinking carcass, will feed the maggots and the flies
So much dung upon the ground, they’ll welcome your demise

So pretend it isn’t so…denial is the word
Your approaching Doom, will not be differed

The CURSE that is upon you, this CURSE now eats your soul
BAHAHAHAHA declare! Before you’re burning in Sheol

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