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Hide my face, my geatures of pain Is there any point of having a name I stare in front, I see only red As I lay here upon my death bed Cut, gut, beaten, eaten The cannibals feast upon my innards Using bark to eat their dinner Moist muscle, inner bile Handfuls of viscera Being eaten in piles Eaten Cut, gut, beaten, eaten A half eaten carcass soaked in blood Rotting in the heat, and mud Cavity wounds, Gaping holes I'm left disregarded by these cannibal trolls From Letras Mania