| «The devil is as black as he is painted
|
| With sorrow and loss, you too shall become acquainted
|
| And so it was written…»
|
| They said they wanted them dead, come daylight
|
| I’ll make sure they’re dead before sunrise
|
| If a man chooses, and a slave obeys
|
| Then I’m a slave to everything they ever said
|
| The gift of death will be the last thing you swallow
|
| Slowly losing hope of seeing tomorrow
|
| , stuck inside the box
|
| I’m not afraid of god,
|
| They said you know too much
|
| So break me with the slightest touch
|
| I’ll make it clean, I won’t make you suffer
|
| Don’t make a scene,
|
| A deer caught in the crosshairs
|
| Of life’s firing line
|
| (Are you afraid to die?)
|
| For once, I don’t take any pleasure
|
| In this definite end
|
| Marked for death
|
| I’ll breakdown all your fears
|
| Without shedding a fucking tear
|
| (Flesh and bone)
|
| A feast for crows
|
| Friend on friend, what a violent twist
|
| I left her there, rotting in blood I spilt
|
| They said they wanted her dead, come daylight
|
| I’ll make sure she’s gone before sunrise
|
| If a man chooses, and a slave obeys
|
| Then I’m a slave to everything they ever said
|
| Conflicted between friends and enemies
|
| The line between right and wrong is tearing at the seams
|
| The only thing that’s clear is nothing is black and white
|
| In a world of grey, the innocent must die
|
| In a world of grey, the innocent deer dies
|
| If a man chooses, and a slave obeys
|
| Then I’m a slave to the reapers mind
|
| I drive the blade in to the fucking hilt
|
| Along with regret for every death I’ve dealt
|
| And as your eyes meet mine, I begin
|
| To feel something I’ve never felt;
|
| Guilt
|
| Oh my god, why would you make me do that?
|
| Why the fuck did you make me do that?
|
| Because I know who you really are, Sherlock Bones
|
| While you were out gloating about how misanthropic you are
|
| You slipped up and told me you were the one
|
| Who really killed my angel
|
| You stupid fuck |