| 歌曲 | A Eulogy For The Damned |
| 歌手 | Orange Goblin |
| 专辑 | A Eulogy For The Damned |
| 作曲 : Chris Turner/Ben Ward/Martyn Millard/Joe Hoare | |
| Beggars, thieves and lives downtrodden | |
| Come to me as the King of the Damned | |
| They hang their actions on my blackened outlook | |
| They take their lives by the slight of my hand | |
| They bought a ticket to the Gates of Heaven | |
| But all the Saints see them coming and they run | |
| No chance for reason | |
| No hope at all | |
| No slight return to grace, but a long, long way to fall | |
| A sorry sign of weakness | |
| A silly game to play | |
| A sad song of what becomes of the souls on judgement day | |
| Dead eyes to find you | |
| No tales to tell | |
| Been lost so long I learnt to hunt by sense of smell | |
| Old hands are broken | |
| Old veins are torn | |
| Cos' we're all dying from the day that we are born | |
| We're trying, we're torn | |
| We're dying from the day that we're born | |
| We're trying, we're torn | |
| We're dying from the day that we're born | |
| Can't save a sick man | |
| Can't raise the dead | |
| Can't make a deal with something that's only in your head | |
| My spirit's broken | |
| My soul is torn | |
| Cos' we're all dying from the day that we are born | |
| We're trying, we're torn | |
| We're dying from the day that we're born | |
| We're trying, we're torn | |
| We're dying from the day that we're born |
| zuò qǔ : Chris Turner Ben Ward Martyn Millard Joe Hoare | |
| Beggars, thieves and lives downtrodden | |
| Come to me as the King of the Damned | |
| They hang their actions on my blackened outlook | |
| They take their lives by the slight of my hand | |
| They bought a ticket to the Gates of Heaven | |
| But all the Saints see them coming and they run | |
| No chance for reason | |
| No hope at all | |
| No slight return to grace, but a long, long way to fall | |
| A sorry sign of weakness | |
| A silly game to play | |
| A sad song of what becomes of the souls on judgement day | |
| Dead eyes to find you | |
| No tales to tell | |
| Been lost so long I learnt to hunt by sense of smell | |
| Old hands are broken | |
| Old veins are torn | |
| Cos' we' re all dying from the day that we are born | |
| We' re trying, we' re torn | |
| We' re dying from the day that we' re born | |
| We' re trying, we' re torn | |
| We' re dying from the day that we' re born | |
| Can' t save a sick man | |
| Can' t raise the dead | |
| Can' t make a deal with something that' s only in your head | |
| My spirit' s broken | |
| My soul is torn | |
| Cos' we' re all dying from the day that we are born | |
| We' re trying, we' re torn | |
| We' re dying from the day that we' re born | |
| We' re trying, we' re torn | |
| We' re dying from the day that we' re born |