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Strike my name from the book of life |
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Inscribed forever in the book of death |
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Destroyer, life taker, the end and the omega |
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Death walks behind you, waiting to find you to dismember |
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The bloody work of death is not too great a task |
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All this and more, I now hold in my grasp |
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Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp |
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Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last |
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Ends such as yours are the trade that I ply |
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Stricken by death as your life flashes by from an autopsy |
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To a cemetery, then to the grave, your final destiny carnage |
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And sin are my blood, kith and kin, and to your end, they will be |
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As all begins, so all must end, now your end I shall begin |
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From dust to dust, return again, life ends in sin |
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The circle turns back on itself, life ends in death and pain and hell |
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And dead men have no tales to tell, nor souls to sell |
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Death walks at my right hand, and there's a knife-blade in my left |
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Turning living into dying, soon to be friends and mourners crying |
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Dispossessing the flesh, leaving death |
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But no clues for the finding |
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The bloody work of death is not too great a task |
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All this and more, I now hold in my grasp |
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Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp |
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Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last |