hunter of tears, relative pain   half of this world is dark with the stain   the stain of unknowing   the dead flower buds,   on smiling lips is innocent blood   the corpse of your god can only rot and grow cold   now promise me you'll kill me before I get old   I hear you on the telephone   moaning my doom   a cold woman will kill me in a darkened room   just enough, a heart attack   seal up my black body bag   take me home and hate me, love   bite the hand of our lost love   take your time and take your life   amputate with this dull knife   heaven's meat is on the stick   stir my pain with an ice pick   pick, pick, pick   pick, pick, pick   pick, pick, pick   the chain-saw smile of the mortician shines   I still got all my fingers but somewhere I lost my mind   I can smell abortion on you   I can see through   I take the gun out of my mouth and point it at you