(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