You'll twist and turn your spite 
Till you drain the sane 
Cover up your track's with lie's 
Deceit hide's a smile 

So tired of this false pretence 
Can't even look me in the eye 
Approached by [bad word]  you take offence 
Praise the hypocrite! 

I'll dance on your grave until my feet bleed 
Six feet unders, where you'll rot 
No remorse, your ill fate kept [bad word] 

What lie's behind close door's 
Your slave's dance, you stamp your feet 
Secrecy will land you on your face 
No game, no gain 

Your sheer presence make's my skin crawl 
But your stale memory drag's on 

What goes [bad word] around 

I'll dance on your grave until my feet bleed 
Six feet unders where you'll rot 
No remorse, your ill fate kept [bad word] 

We'll spit on your grave until your soul scream's 
Six feet unders not deep enough 
No sleep lost, good [bad word] to those who wait