| Scalpels cleave and reave though crimson rivulets
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| Weaving their cold and malignant minuets
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| Carving out funereal figures in arcane alphabets
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| Scars that will never heal or forget…
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| Like puzzle pieces, set askew, you’ve come undone
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| The bleeding is ceaseless, you’re turning blue, the end had begun
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| Set down in writing, flesh, blood and bone, let death be done
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| The pen is as mighty as the sword, sticks or stones, your end would be cast
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| In stone, by either one…
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| (Lead — Mike)
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| Tenderly thanatographical threads are tread and traced
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| Boiling blood will serve to warm this cold clinical embrace
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| A clean precise cut to mark this morbid meeting place
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| This knife — point where you and death came face to face…
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| The slab starts to spin around and around, as I take your hand in mine
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| We move step by step within, without so much as a sound, death’s dark design
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| In time
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| A slice to the left, then cut back to the right, movements scripted in this
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| Dance of the dead
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| Motions so deft, recalled by touch not by sight, footprints encrypted by
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| Blood running red…
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| A pirouette on razor’s edge leaves you breathless
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| The slab plays host to an incisive macabre ballet
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| A savage, slicing slaughter of the senses
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| Now splayed…
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| UNDER THE KNIFE — your death hangs in the balance, on the edge of the blade
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| REMEMBER EVERY SLICE — of this jigsawed demise, and every part that I payed
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| COLD STEEL BURNS LIKE ICE — leaves you dancing on nothing, loosed by
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| Unsteady hands
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| UNDER THE KNIFE — The caress of steel, just before the end…
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| Just before the end…
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| (Lead — Matt)
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| A bleeding patchwork design, in running scarlet writ
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| Connected wounds intersecting from slit to bloody slit
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| Such a tangled web of shreds and scars I’ve knit
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| The liquid of life, leaks out through the red at your wrists…
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| May I have this last dance? |
| As I take your last breath
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| With a final flick of my wrist
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| UNDER THE KNIFE — your death hangs in the balance, on the edge of the blade
|
| REMEMBER EVERY SLICE — of this jigsawed demise, and every part that I payed
|
| COLD STEEL BURNS LIKE ICE — leaves you dancing on nothing, loosed by
|
| Unsteady hands
|
| UNDER THE KNIFE — The caress of steel, just before the end… |