How I regret what I must do
but you've left me no choice.
Though I still strain
I can't recall the beauty of your fey voice.

Now that I've [bad word] through the walls
a song I've heard many times I must return
all you gave me in [bad word] of swine.
We had found sacred ground you burnt down.

I thought you sang to tastefully
but now I see I was wrong.
Your serenade turns to filth when I leave
so, please, cut the love song.

How I regret what I must do
but you must be replaced
for I cannot go on suffering
such simple [bad word] tastes.
When you met my eyes you sang to me of passion,
pain and will.
When I blinked you turned away
to kiss the hand of filth.
You had found sacred ground I'll burn down

Tell me who will hear your voice,
your song, when the smoke has cleared
and the lights are gone?
Tell me, who appears when I'm gone.