After we die, invading our bodily cavities
The young of insects feed
On our inactive brains
And numb spinal chords
Open sores drain slow
Spouting yellow pus - from us
Dead human flesh brings nourishment
Survival from what is dead and cold
Our unburied carcass'
Will be reduced to bone
Open sores drain slow
Spouting yellow pus - they're feeding on our souls
A sickening odor seeps - from us
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