The Vulture

..:::lyrlirlyrkiksks:::..

you are dancing on my grave
i feel a glorious grace
that crumbles out of you
even im not dead yet
i wait for the moment when you get fed
and your guns sings

a bullethole on my strangeled neck
i feel something strange
like cold air is breezing on my brains

i dont care about death
i dont care about your words
soon i am willing to die

you are the vulture
lurking out of my people of a tribe inside my body
heart stops beating
but calm can wait
as long it takes
to make you leave me freezing
----
to make you overrun
to make you kick my face
to make you hate my every move
to take me down to bottom
to take me up and drown
and you know what?
i am willing to die

reality is painful
colours all gone
drugs paints my life
full of love

you are dancing on my grave
i feel a glorious grace
that crumbles out of you
even im not dead yet
i wait for the moment when you get fed
and your guns sings

i sense what you're thinking
i can read it out of your face
i can taste it on the air
you represent a selfish whore
with all my respect
what will become out of your son?
im not here to see
i'll be gone