Fetuses Taste Like Chicken The screams of the mothers pierce the silent night much like a knife driven through soft meat they try to defend themselves with all possible might until bowing thier heads in defeat Thier stomachs ripped open, the placentas' are drawn out of the bellies, being witness to satanic song The curses of the many ripple through the crowd cursing the meals-to-be still screaming aloud The fetuses are drawn like poison froma wound as the chants of psychopaths still ring placed upon a table, as if in some strange fable to be devoured by some shadowed, hellish thing The fires arise as if being summoned by some creature from the bowels of hell eager to eat, the soft pink meat of his offering meant to wish him well The meal has begun and like the curses being sung leave a shroud of uneasiness over those of them who eat the soft pink meat still talking to the demons on thier shoulder The bodies, still fresh are laid to rest in a tomb of stench and rotting as they lay there, faces blank in the dark, in the dank a scene of horrible slaughter How could they commit such an atrocity? What could possess them to eat a mother and her child, screaming all the while as they pull out strands of human meat Fetuses taste like chicken (the best tasting part is the brain) eat them in honor of satan they'll stop you from going insane Fetuses taste like chicken out of the womb, it's like KFC so take a plate, a fork and a knife and come and eat with me.