Hunter of tears, relative pain
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Half of this world is dark with the stain
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The stain of unknowing the dead flower buds
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On smiling lips is innocent blood, oh yeah
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The corpse of your god can only rot and grow cold
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Now promise me you'll kill me before I get old
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I hear you on the telephone,yeah moaning my doom
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A cold woman will kill me in a darkened room
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Just enough, a heart attack
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Seal up my black body bag
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Take me home and hate me, love
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Bite the hand of our lost love
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Take your time and take your life
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Amputate with this dull knife
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Heaven's meat is on the stick
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Stir my pain with an ice pick
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Pick, pick, pick (x3)
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The chain-saw smile of the mortician shines
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I still got all my fingers but somewhere I lost my mind
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I can smell abortion on you, I can see through
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I take the gun out of my mouth and point it at you
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The Morticians' Flame
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| Acid Bath |
