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