I talk to death everyday I dissection bodies on the autopsy desk while I'm having breakfast with death I feel the cold stainless desk while I'm sawing the apper part of their heads to empty their dead brains I die day by day dissectoning bodies I get sick looking into the face of death and my face is reflected I wake up with the funeral music of my alarm clock to talk again to death gloomy and cold she takes hold of me as I cut ribs with my pincers the crackings of bores talk to me and death tells me she is coming soon for me and I'm waiting for her.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
