This Cursed Flesh

Scrubbing skin, cleanse this cursed flesh Oh that vile stench of sin seems to seep from within I still smell his burning fat, his bowels turned Oh that rank smell of sin seems to stick to my skin Was his death unjust? Well I dare hope not His sentence may falter, but the end that he got Neatly executed with impeccable skill Just like I'd wish my end when it is fulfilled I pray it must draw near This burden turned to much to bear I wish I could greet my long trusted friend My only true companion to and through the end Scrubbing skin, cleanse this bloodied flesh Oh that vile stench of sin emanates from within I still feel those woeful stares, their scent of fear And that rank smell of sin seems to stick to my skin Were their deaths unjust? Well I would bet not Such nasty, demeanours account for a lot So we sent them off to the best of our wills Still that accursed room echoes with their screams so thrill Is this endless delirious strain, sore pores and bloody chains All I shall attain, has it been to no avail? This raucous delirious strain returns again and again The ghosts of the slain, from my bonded domain I pray it must draw near, my burden grievous I'd greet my trusted friend Intent companion loyal through grace and grief parade and gutter My aide through life and lot I beg you to collect me