A golden apple of the sweetest taste,
We mustn't let it go to waste...
I remember well
The depths of hell...
His lips so pure
The blood drops from his chin...
Sirens coo unwary men
Tempting them with song...
I wish to leap over
the apparent horizon...
I'm the covenmaster,
come out and play...
Blood drips off of the knife,
as the man holds it at his waist...
In the light of the moon
Of parents unknown...
The blood lust fills every thought,
The warm metallic taste of the blood you've...
Arriving at a quaint old little village,
On the outer perimeter of a large town...
Looking through his tears
the falling of feathers he hears...
With nice little twist,
I slit my wrist...