| A slithering, voracious host descends |
| Consuming decay as your thorax ferments |
| Blindly they hunger, unsated they feast |
| Countless they number, their repast the deceased |
| Infesting, digesting |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |
| Flesh turns to liquid, discolored and foul |
| As the necrovores gorge on your now-livid bowels |
| Squelching they burrow as your corpse goes to seed |
| At your nostrils they nibble, in your brain they now feed |
| Your decay, their entree |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |
| An abhorrent appetite, for bilious, bloated blight |
| A sick and loathsome sight, mouthless they feed, toothless they bite |
| Crawling across your face, your features soon erased |
| Flesh now a runny paste, witless they waste, tongueless they taste |
| What remains of your remains is a carnal junk heap |
| Liquefaction oozes, bubbles and seeps |
| Still they writhe and devour your steaming entrails |
| A full belly the reward for their repugnant travails |
| Voracious, rapacious |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |
| Worming through a maze of flesh |
| Writhing in their feast of death |
| Squirming till there’s nothing left |
| Worming |