before you know i'm swept away   watching my shadow eat off my plate   and i went to sleep a shell of a man   i woke up the same so i slept in again      before you know these days are gone   a roman candle fired at dawn      it was accidently discovered   you had cold blood running through your veins   when you cut your punch on a broken windo   and the blood froze like frost on the shattered pane      and you had a hunger growing inside you   that only bloodlust could ever fulfill   you extricated yourself to the jungle   to try to temper that instinct to kill      bury deep in the hot hot sand a portrait of your mothe   take those hands and kill that man standing in the mirror      you were raised as a wild wolf cub   although it seems you sleep like a lamb   you don't know what to do with her love   it's like a live grenade in your hands      your father warned you about temptation   and all the wicked women that it breeds   but when you met her you knew live was over   her damnation is what your body needs      bury deep in the hot hot sand   a portrait of your mother   take those hands and kill that man   standing in the mirror      bury deep in the hot hot sand   a portrait of your mother   take those hands and kill that man   standing in the mirror      bury deep in the hot hot sand   a portrait of your mother   take those hands and kill that man   standing in the mirror      i was raised on wolve's milk   though it seems i sleep like a lamb   and i was raised on wolves milk   though it seems i sleep like a lamb