Butcher's Rake

You are forbidden to enter
My sanctum of carving flesh
Where I grind up swine placenta
With liver and cattle heart
The tortured spirits of my meals
Look at me with disdain
As entrails and intestines
Creep slowly toward the drain
It makes me sick
Waiting for my damnation
I could be quite useful in hell
Hacking off their limbs one by one
Mix them in the pot
We're having pork loaf with thumbs
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Take out the rake
Rake
Take out the Rake
Take the rake and rake the leaves



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