Slaves ov the dead gods Martyrs ov the falsehood Your life is death now Engulfed by the wake ov a million years Welcome to Amenti Jerusalem is falling! "Paint me as a dead soul The flesh, the image, the reflection Let's complete the illusion"

They were doolin', doolin'-dalton High or low, it was the same Easy money, and faithless women Red eye whiskey for the pain. Go down little dalton, it must be God's will Two brothers lyin' dead in Coffeeville. Two voices call to you from where they

Bleed on me, digesting the clotted scabs Blood thirsty, ungodly, passing on my curse The spell pissing gores of those I infect Become my loyal servants to ride me of my own rot Whittling meat from the bones of the dead Pulverizing pelvic regions with a

Let it all burn I will burn first God I've tried, am I lost in your eyes? Just let me burn, it's what I deserve. God I've lied, am I lost in your eyes? Just let me burn So cry 3 tears for me, When it's all gone,

(We are) the anti-cancer (We are) the only answer Stripped down, we want you dead But what's inside of me, you'll never know (We are) bipolar gods (We are) you know what we are My life was always shit And I don't think I need this anymore

I can't get you out of my head God knows I've tried But I just can't forget Those crazy nights And all the things that we did Well, I don't know just what it is Maybe it was the way you talked Maybe it was the way you laughed But I know I want you back

I can't get you out of my head God knows I've tried But I just can't forget Those crazy nights And all the things that we did Well, I don't know just what it is Maybe it was the way you talked Maybe it was the way you laughed But I know I want you back

And he shall be Levon And he shall be a good man He shall be Levon He was born a pauper To a pawn on a Christmas day When the New York Times Said God is dead and the war's begun Alvin Tostig has a son today In tradition with the family plan, woo

Did you miss me? No, I don't know where I'm goin' But I'm goin', now is you comin' with me? Up, up and away Hey, do you trust me? If I was on my last dollar, dead broke, assed out, would you love me? Then it must be a match made in heaven God's Gift,

And we go... Rush faster on the one-way lane The answers so silent Rusty gods in their machine-minds armors Grind our souls in the millstone of time The "deathbed harvest" is dead man's banquet Of mold ridden bread and black, poisoned wine And we