(I believe your gonner be blessed)
Senses go cold, Bright eyes fade
Blame the hunter with the double edge blade,
There will be no undying memory,
But the memory of futility.
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake smile
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake
Modern illusions cut to shreads
Mourn the faceless mass on which dependent,
There will be no undying memory
but the memory of sterility.
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake smile
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake smile.
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake smile
Kiss your, kiss your, bloodstained lips,
smile, smile, your fake fake