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To see the ruse, with it's end in bloom, to see this strife and these vices tear their way through you. I always knew, to put no faith into the shit you talk, and the hate you spew. If the Devil is the author, then I serve as the pen. Watch your seed rot; wicked, through the hearts of men. So as I walk, and I'm shadowed by death I beg you bury me face down, tired and faithless. I'll walk this path in front of me. I never died when you buried me. Take these letters from Earth and send them home, back to the black, to this nothing I came from. The same song, still plays and I'm gone. Send these bones to Hell and pray I never see the dawn.