That Death’s a cold son of a bitch who owes me money Just goes to show you can’t trust dealers these days There’s a place in the desert where our world connects with theirs Reunited in the badland’s grave Stoned forever at the funeral rave
I have seen it Two worlds I have arrived at the Gorelord’s door Once and for all to settle the score I'm released That Death’s a cold son of a bitch who owes me money Just goes to show you can’t trust demons these days
If it’s a condition and not a curse Then who cut the breaklines on my hearse Is it chemical this sadness Or is it spiritual this madness Or is witchcraft
