Grand Morbid Funeral

With rags drenched in the deaths of our own kind

A massive tail of rats align our steps behind

Scattered crosses in every corner of our eyes

While our mouths drown in oceans of swarming flies

Black death leprosy slithers on skin

Pierced from within

Fever grins like a madman's face

Ungodly fall from grace

Foul rash of agonized bleeding

The pulse receding

Vultures circle impatiently

To carve the flesh from bone fatally

Many a moon on, escape from a death so certain

The plague breathes down our necks just as sure as night's curtain

Trapped to wander this procession of inhumation

Our bloodline parched on a cursed road to stagnation