It's almost night
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The clouds are streaked with violet
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And the moon is bright
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Banish your innocence
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There is no breeze
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Disquiet lurks in silence
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By this place of power
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Your sins must escalate
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What has come before
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And recurs perpetually
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Is on it's way
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Cherish each atrocity
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Woodland dark surroundings
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Ill lit by twin beacons
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A black car approaches
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With two men inside it
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With the right temptation
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Murder needs to prompting
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The man riding shotgun
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Has just killed his own son
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To nurture the white worms
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Still and isolated
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The woodframe house stands vacant
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Humans that once lived here
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Can no longer be found
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And yet all are present
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Well fed and ghastly white
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In the mound of moist earth
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That sits just by the road
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His rigid features inexpressive
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He flings his son's blonde head upon the heap
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This last act earns him his metamorphosis
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For he who built the house is at the wheel
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To nurture the white worms
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Darkling souls, though larval
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With each sin can mutate
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Into something dreadful
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Before dawn, you'll pupate
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And feed on innocents
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Nourished by more like you
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To someday haunt the aether
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In obscene evolution
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The house is hell
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With it's windows all agape
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Through these come some worms
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And they have sprouted wings
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Fear is forever, the objective
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To goad the rest of humanity
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Into acts of pervert nature
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And bring out the worm in all of us
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-----------------
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White Worms
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Cryptopsy |