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- Knife From My Sleeve

 

We are the dogs, beaten without any remorse
Skies fill wells with songs of sorrow
Drink from them and become the beast
Dying mothers will leave behind
A filth unlike any other
Father favours his second life
Filthy beasts are left behind
Last cradled by her dead hands
Your wretched flesh must be unborn
Knife from my sleeve
Lying children chained and bare
Like a pack of wild dogs
Do our children burn like trees
Their many tears become the leaves
Change your human form
Hunted like the filth you are
Now open palms to dagger's touch
Fill the basins with unborn flesh
Tie my bones to the trees and weep red
There a creature carrying spines and black eyes
He's only given a bed to die in
He is without a soul
And returns to a place of exile
His skin will be hacked by his own hand
He is a son without a father
The son burns like a tree
And is given no name
I will weep beneath his bones
You killed this child without remorse
So now kill me

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