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Your womb always bled the sweetest of blood |
|
Let me taste it, let me smell your inner lust |
|
Leaving bloody marks of my dried out lips |
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All around your vagina, down on your hips |
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I may be old |
|
But still I breathe |
|
Therefore I am |
|
I may be old |
|
But still I move |
|
And lead this dance |
|
I smeared your dirty wings with an ancient oil |
|
Made out of serpents, bats and soil |
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Take your broken wings and try to fly again |
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Down into the abyss, through the eternal flames |
|
Behold the beautiful landscape below |
|
Watch it with respect and see what it has to show |
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This is where the future meets the past |
|
Where the time stands still and the first becomes the last |
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I took a piece of your heart |
|
I took a piss on your soul |
|
I spit on your feeble church |
|
I disgraced your holy whore |
|
I want to see the daughters of the moon |
|
Dance on the blood-red tide |
|
Wearing nothing but their funeral dress |
|
So innocent, with nothing to hide |
|
I may be old |
|
But still I breathe |
|
Therefore I am |
|
I may be old |
|
But still I move |
|
And lead this dance |
