| My friend, my friend he's got a knife | |
| A statement from his former life | |
| When he was easy but alone | |
| Beside him was an empty throne | |
| But what of silver silken blade | |
| Affix his gaze, his features staid | |
| Grasps the handle, clips the cable | |
| One steps up, sits at his table | |
| My friend, my friend, he's got a knife | |
| My friend, my friend, he's got a wife | |
| My friend, my friend, the clever ruse | |
| Persuasion through his thoughts peruse | |
| A hidden relic from his past | |
| That wasn't there when he looked last | |
| He feels it ticking like a bomb | |
| Feeding fear, assaulting calm | |
| Takes the object, starts the game | |
| Moves closer to the flame | |
| My friend, my friend, the clever ruse | |
| My friend, my friend, he lights the fuse | |
| My friend, my friend, he's got a knife | |
| My friend, my friend, he's got a knife | |
| My friend, my friend, he's got a knife |
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