Stillborn - Whore Of The Whores Тексты

Your god moves very nimbly
For being a self-propelled flitch
As we chase him to stab his arse
With one-third part of the world

Dead numbered rats
Bitten deep into clitoris
Of whore of the whores

Persecution mania of prophet
Which can’t find a place to hide
We are the mountain he scare
It’s time to open his grin wide

And perhaps we should
Leave them alone behind
For eating each other
In the name of

Whore of the whores