Drag him down,
That knife, slipping flee
That knife, slipping flee
Sweet dreams my dear little child
I burn for touching a bead of your own mass
You will be gone now forever
Try to sleep one more time

spirit [bad word] through
Silent bringer of death
The cover breezed right open [bad word] to steal the cash
Washed his blade over the kill
 [bad word] the light)
Furious desertion