Souls are to some the key to living but this can be severely hidden
cellar so sordid, home to a doctor born morbid, his quest in life was to cut out souls with his knife

Snatched his victims after night fall, random target all humans have a soul
Then one night, out and stalking he saw a glow around a lonely walker
Whom he tracked, jumped and overthrew

This had to be a special one, he tied her up and brought her home
Dragged downstairs, head bumped the steps, all [bad word] and swelled
On the gurney strapped and gagged her screaming yap
Steady breath behind the surgical mask, no thought of giving anesthesia

Servitude of souls, master robbing anima
Servitude of souls, master robbing anima

The knife went deep, the shining grew, her spastic body of pain showed proof
Secret sermon uttered for the souls to stay intact before caught
She bit off her own tongue

jar of glass placed carefully next to the open wound, she watched her soul slip into it
Closed the lid and smiled as he let her die, cold and empty
Now came the time to merge with glowing treasure of his
His dirty glasses reflected his hands as they slowly opened a drawer

Pulled out a vast collection of jars, they all contained his victims sparks
The thievish doctor had formed a plan, through surgery insert them all into his body
Slashed a laceration and poured them in, the dead was lying rotting and wouldn't miss a thing

Servitude of souls, master robbing anima
Servitude of souls, master robbing anima