Whitechapel - Devirgination Studies lyrics

Now that I have my trophy of your anatomy
Your stiff can be excised aberrantly

Convulsions transpire
Your seeping suppuration
Our intimacy is arcane to culture
These ethics I contain in
My arsenal of pleasure
Fail to be appreciated

Your proposition isn't good
My expectations don't meet yours
In due time, I'll dictate your vile form
Into my incapable hands and claim
You for my own

You're born into these hands again

Send the slut back to Hell
Send the slut back to Hell
Send the slut back to Hell
Send the slut back to Hell

Another whore to seek to fondle and misuse

Back to the grave to exhume again