• Crunching and munching of blades between lips
    The monster is coming, how will it sip
    The blood of the lost and the blind and the cold,
    Ones that are sucked into planes of the sold

    It will creep and sneak, its in no hurry
    Crawling up their arms in blades dark furry
    How they will wish for the monster to come
    To suck them dry of the love they were born.

    The weak and the lost all sit on their beds,
    Lullaby’s drifting around in their heads
    The monster is on them, in them, are them
    Movement is quick and the silence is deep,
    The monster releases them from their live sleep.

    Made from nightmares of children of old,
    Executioners axe dripping stories untold.
    For dreams come to life in the minds of the weak,
    They wish for pain to drain down in creeks.

    Those who drift in clouds of ash,
    Wished for this life of only half-assed.
    They couldn't take their life as it was bestowed,
    They made up a creature of horrors untold.
    So that they could bury their fears of their own.

    Tearing through fleshy wrist’s with abandon
    These poor lost souls just couldn't take the passion.