| I curse the love for you
|
| And the pale souls you have tasted
|
| The sings of filthy passion
|
| Will soon turn to cries of pain
|
| When I claim what is mine
|
| Through the justice of suffering
|
| When the paying of her sins come closer
|
| The night will end in tears
|
| And the moment you dirt her skin with your fingers
|
| You will be sentenced the same
|
| Every second with her I count
|
| And for every second you will suffer too
|
| No light will save them now
|
| When the words of hope have all been spoken
|
| And I wash the blood from my hands
|
| And let them lie silent and cold on the flowers
|
| For my anger is greater
|
| Than the hand that once swept your cheek
|
| And my anger is greater
|
| Than the human I was
|
| I will claim that is mine
|
| Through the justice of suffering
|
| No light will save them now
|
| When the words of hope have all been spoken
|
| And I wash the blood from my hands
|
| And let them lie silent and cold on the flowers
|
| Is this poison in your womb
|
| Worth of the burning flesh
|
| In this pyre of ghost lovers
|
| But every second with her I count
|
| And for every second you will suffer too
|
| The night will end…
|
| It will end in tears soon
|
| No light will save them now
|
| When the words of hope have all been spoken
|
| And I wash the blood from my hands
|
| And let them lie silent and cold on the flowers
|
| No light will save them now
|
| When the words of hope have all been spoken
|
| And I wash the blood from my hands
|
| And let them lie silent and cold on the flowers |