I, Flatline

Like a blade in the skull
 It's fused to the marrow
 The machines wash the stains from my throat
 And brand the marks into my already burnt skin
 Sew the stomach
 So the eggs won't leak
 Crush the remaining stillborn
 Discard the flesh
 (???)
 The harvest draws close
 But how will they find me?
 I won't leave until my guts are full
 The fluid that flows through my veins
 This blade, it just won't dull
 The soil and the drugs, it's all the same
 The blood and fangs, rooted in bone
 Washing over the guard
 Roaming the plains of sand and salt
 Another hand tears free
 But the virus remains
 The slums mourn at night
 The sound of terror, the sound of shock
 The whores now roam, feasting
 Like a blade in the skull
 It's fused to the marrow
 The machines was the stains from my throat
 And brand the marks into my already burnt skin
 Sew the stomach
 So the eggs won't leak
 Crush the remaining stillborn
 Discard the flesh
 The wolves are feeding in masses
 Birthed straight into the sterile fluid
 The sun, it sears my eyes
 My eyes
 You saw me as a rat
 Is that the same body I taunted?
 Here comes the machine