Devirgination Studies - Whitechapel

Now that I have my trophy, of your anatomy

Your stiff can be excised aberrantly

Convulsions, transpire, your seeping suppuration

Our intimacy is arcane to culture

These ethics I contain in my arsenal of pleasure

Fail to be appreciated

Your proposition, isn’t good

My expectations don’t meet, yours

In due time I’ll dictate your vile form

Into my incapable hands and claim you for my own!

You’re born, into, these hands, again!

Send the slut, back to hell

Send the slut, back to hell

Send the slut, back to hell

Send the slut, back to hell

Another whore to seek, to fondle and misuse

Back to the grave, to exhume again