Abattoir of Associates


Oh do not let the rust deceive
I hung a man the other day
Upon my hook I did receive
A sanguine porcine soul as pay

A bit of fat a bit of blood
Beneath the skin it’s all the same
The pores and folds are full of mud
And no one wants to take the blame

While sycophants are out to dine
The narcissists have fled the scene
But in the ends the suits are mine
And I intend to keep them clean

So here we stand behind the glass
My sharpened smile across your throat
I’m whisp’ring shadows from the past
And knotting ties while you take note

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