Ripped pain steals into this house
I haven't got the strength to take your cane
The cut of god tincture red is thrust upon me
The acts are nothing but a thorn
Figures frying in days
Cold dry days
Coming out from every pore
I can taste the sour of the sourest
I can feel the sweetest sweet
Finish trying days by killing darker ways
Until the good people won
Peace rests
Shots heard
My o my
I haven't got a cape
It's not a cross
Fight the gods the same
Ripped pain steals into this house
