Tekster:
Death Angel The Art Of Dying

Turning knot, rotting in my gut Got me feeling so corrupt Like a second hand politician I'm a study in malnutrition Every star I see I'm wishing Got

All's quite now on the western front But you never know what's above you Chances are when you're down and tired It's a lack of what you need inside you

Raise your hands to the sky On your knees and abide Don't stare into the sun The new saviors have come And you choose your wine Like you chose your friends

Smell you, eye you, how rapid the chase it is on Swat you, bite you, locked on your neck and you're down I can't believe that you're trying to put up

Dream awake, eyes open wide Drain the poison, kill the lie Life is now, there is no end Never know what might have been Spirit never fade away I can

frey to death And all around fore none as demon shall be found Out beneath the azrael Tolling raven of the knell And to my dark angel Whose form too

dying O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying We live, we die & death

Ebon's graves where lovers whore Like seraphim and Nahemah Pluck out mine eyes, hasten, attest Blind reason against thee, enchantress For I must know, art thou not death

dying O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying We live, we die & death