|
Taste the bittersweet hatred |
|
That I place on your tongue |
|
For what are you not in my hands |
|
But a statue for me to create |
|
I will be the flies |
|
The flies that infect you |
|
Decompose your binding flesh |
|
For you to bear the aura of death |
|
Take a look around |
|
And see all the mistakes you have done |
|
Your guilt will follow in your footsteps |
|
Keep you from restoring peace of mind |
|
Wherever you will walk |
|
It will be with the wind in your face |
|
Raped by the blazing darkness |
|
Raped towards infinite holocaust |
|
Now reach for your dagger |
|
And drive it through their hearts |
|
For this pounding piece of flesh |
|
Is the one thing you do not possess |
|
So let the blade be your soul |
|
And may it be a great prophet |
|
Hear the voice of salvation |
|
And tell their hearts of it |
|
Taste the bittersweet hatred |
|
That I place on your tongue |
|
For what are you not in my hands |
|
But a statue for me to create |
|
Take a look around |
|
And see all the mistakes you have done |
|
Your guilt will follow in your footsteps |
|
Keep you from restoring peace of mind |
|
When you stand there alone |
|
With all the dying bodies around you |
|
You will see their questions |
|
In their eyes before they die |
|
As you are the one left |
|
Let your laughter roll |
|
And for once feel complete satisfaction |
|
Before you slice the knife through yourself |
