| Don't think | |
| I can't see through you | |
| Don't think you would ever fool me | |
| I'll get what's coming to me | |
| From the womb unto the tomb | |
| The stagnant air that fills the room | |
| Into the shrine where you have knelt | |
| You felt the buckle now feel the belt | |
| Don't give it away | |
| Your deepest cut will leave no mark | |
| This sceptic skin will never scar | |
| Come breathe some light into my dark | |
| Be penitent and penetrate | |
| Between the liquor and all these lies | |
| See past the bruises of your hate | |
| Come face to face and meet your fate | |
| The weak will walk the sick will see | |
| Caress my cursed soul for me | |
| These begging hands will pray with glee | |
| Upon your blackened fists and knees | |
| This sleuth hound is the | |
| Lord of lies | |
| This boiling pot will draw the flies | |
| Write one more cheque before you die | |
| Repeat Don't think | |
| I can't see through ya | |
| Do ya think | |
| I'd ever fool ya | |
| You'll get what's coming to ya | |
| You'll get what's coming to ya | |
| You'll get what's coming to ya | |
| The weak will walk the sick will see | |
| Caress my cursed soul for me | |
| These begging hands will prey with glee | |
| Upon your blackened fists and knees |
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