Better Than Suicide — Psyclon Nine

This cancer eats the filth away Ran from slits so deep so dirty Fed the vile the children's bane

Yes this pestilence this lovers dream The flesh this plague assimilates The end of all: this slate wiped clean

Eclipsing devotion with shallow disguise They prey on the fruit of the one they despise

Better than suicide

Disorder guilds the human filth Wrecked from fair perversity The wicked frails at touch the ill

The children frisk in killing fields Dark rivers of corrosion flow And meet the shores of throes un-healed