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