Oh my sweet Crematoria,who's heaving breasts remind me of,
the fatal kiss of suicide,when perfumed with formaldehyde
they tried to take you away from me,so I took away their lives
but first I killed their relatives,their children and their wives,
they thought your death wound end my love for you,but that
was a grave mistake,my hands are still covered with their blood
as from the furnace I collect your remains,
the roads belong to us my love,and those who dare to block our
way,
will pay profusely with their blood,as I make it shower the ground
like rain,
the trunk of my old muscle car is now a shrine to you,a half charred
godess well preserved by embalming fluid,
the cops are on our trail now,as we hide in cheap motels
a deputy pulls us over,so I shoot him in the face...