Like a knife
Just like a knife

The chill of the air
Will dance with the stone
That marks your grave
Returning you to
the only breath you felt
the only love you knew
cold and alone and dead
and naked and rotting and
breeding maggots
Laying decaying without a soul

Not much change from your days spent living wasting

Deceiver
Black killer
Take the gifts and
burn them in effigy
Never believe
Never conceive
Except when you
Need to feed

Withering and dying
As you're still breathing
You'll see more backs
Than smiles, and
You'll cry and pretend
Not to understand
All the while thinking
Cold steel, not feeling
The last of the hands,
Just feeding
Off their misplaced holy matrimony

Not much change from your infinity of dying

Deceiver
Black killer
Take the gifts and
burn them in effigy
Never believe
Never conceive
Except when you
Need to feed
From the blood of
The ones you've clamed
To love all along
With that big, black hole of yours
The heart with the
same color as your grave

[V.O. Spencer Tracy, "Inherit the Wind"]
You poor slob! You're all alone. When you go to your grave, there won't be anybody to pull the grass up over your head. Nobody to mourn you. Nobody to give a damn. You're all alone.

All alone in this world and
All alone in your own self-interest
Using others for gratification
Masturbation of your broken senses
Your big black fucking hole
Your big black fucking hole
Your big black fucking hole
Will swallow you in time

[V.O. "Boondock Saints"] In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.