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The Black Dahlia Murder - Virally Yours
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The sound of vomiting to my ears like singing
Now I am beginning to become erect
With illness I am obsessed 
In the beds of the fallen I rest
A fixation amplified
The smell here is what I like best.

Feverishly combing the buckets of waste
Wrapping myself in the filth-ridden sheets
Raping the shells of the comatose to fulfill my needs.

Photographing bedsores cultured by my sick neglect
It's more than a job, it's a love for me to walk this close with death.

When you hear a flat line you know surely I'll be near
To when the reaper's sickle is drawn I am ever aware.

I wish I could pull these strings
In death there are finer things
Malpractice
Forever be my bitter name.

How quickly life does fade away
But a flip of the river man's coin could send you soon screaming to you your grave.

Grief stricken family watches on
Ceaseless prayers for an only son
I am afraid that nothing can be done
This moment has finally come.

The wrath of a God exemplified
To the pearly gates he'll soon arrive
To leave here his husk in this room of white
I'm quivering at the thought.

Pull the plug
(I'm begging you)
Take the ride
(To the cold and blue)
The reaper's yellowed lichen finger aims ever so true
The origins of disease 
I have witnessed in my dreams
The flooding of the blackest blood to quench my fetid needs.

I wish I could pull these strings
In death there are finer things
Malpractice
Forever be my bitter name.