Surfacing head first from the final resting place
You better count your sins
She'll rip your heart out
With blood still filling your empty carcass
Laying there at the mercy
And the ministration of her might
Maybe it will reveal your blindness towards her
She is dressed to kill
Her deathgrip brings silence
This inevitable course of events is beyond your control
You better count your sins
She'll rip your heart out
With blood still filling your empty carcass
Laying there at the mercy
And the ministration of her might
Maybe it will reveal your blindness towards her
She is dressed to kill
Her deathgrip brings silence
This inevitable course of events is beyond your control