Pains
Confessions
Scent of sin
My heart turns black
A scythe in my right hand
Glows dirty silver
At the moment
The blood
Sinks into the red swamp
I behead her
A tone like a scream echoes
Tears from my eyes
And change into a voice of a scythe
A cradle of crime and punishment
Swings
Swings
And shrieks
What the hell do you think
Where the sun doesn't enter?
A scythe in my right hand
That judges my beloved
Sings a song
With tears in my eyes
At the moment
A sickel makes a sound
A flower of a quiet song
Blooms
Blooms
And sinks into the swamp
What the hell do you think
Where the sun doesn't enter?