Why don't you build yourself any higher temple of flesh?
These grounds are disgusting,
But your pores are starving maybe we can feed off of conversation.
Hunger drives us close to the corpse
And impure thought drive us closer to feeding them.
But this is just how things are, complex.
With these gnashing teeth their pointing fingers are unforgiving,
But I don't know when the next time is that I'll be eating
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