| The presumption, think my thoughts
|
| Aim low to target your darkest corner
|
| Surrender all and consume my mold
|
| Your freshness and glow to worship
|
| Your healthy claret, a gift
|
| I, the receiver
|
| And you, the giver
|
| When are we planning to leave and bleed?
|
| You, the donator
|
| Me, the polluter
|
| Subsist to eat and breathe you dry
|
| A chalice of charred remains
|
| A solid education in the art of affliction
|
| Drained, emptied out
|
| Precious, cavernous
|
| Deceased masks, pretending still
|
| Defile and inherit the body, your temple
|
| Release the grip to end it
|
| Descend into oblivion
|
| Release the grip, be gone
|
| Your nursing claret now consumed
|
| The normal now surreal
|
| Reclaim the host of rampancy
|
| To make your soul unseal
|
| When are we planning to leave?
|
| When are we planning to leave and bleed?
|
| When are we planning to leave?
|
| When are we planning to leave and bleed?
|
| No more
|
| Turn cold
|
| You look like grief itself
|
| When do I come to her?
|
| Everyone is waiting
|
| Come together to mourn |