blood drips on the cold cement floor    as you slice their flesh with precision   dead bodies once full of life    hang motionless stripped of their skin   as the blood secretes from the throats of your victims   and collects in barrels,   you feel no guilt   your hands are stained with the blood of the innocent   your cold heart cares not for the lives which you have taken   blinded to the horrors which surround you daily   murderer of the innocent   demon without heart   with your tools, you hollow out their bodies   slicing and saving the bits and pieces of organs vital to life   the bone, flesh, and blood   a virtual nightmare in which you partake   this is an altar of sacrifice which has been built   to self-proclaimed gods   these sacrifices fuel their madness   these sacrifices fuel their insanity