---

There's ecstasy at the bottom of the glass, at the end of the line.
Numb our throats and our minds.

Six hundred and sixty six choices.
We chose every one.
Six hundred and sixty six choices.
We chose every single one.

We are the damned and we are to blame.
We are the damned.

Our clothes, they hang on skeletons.
At night they rattle.
At night they stir.
Iron boxes of secrecy.
Open the doors, open the doors.

Six hundred and sixty six choices.
We chose every one.
Six hundred and sixty six choices.
We chose every single one.

We are the damned and we are to blame.
We are the damned.

There's ecstasy at the bottom of the glass, at the end of the line.
Numb our throats and our minds.

I saw the devil in her eyes.
When she said, “God can cut the ties”.
Bloody smiles, forced fed regret.
Poetry down the arms.
It's sick, yet so perfect.
I saw the devil in her eyes.

Divorce.

---

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