| Song | Ad Mortem |
| Artist | The Famine |
| Album | The Architects of Guilt |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| To stop a setting sun whose time has come on the day of a lifetime. | |
| A crime you didn’t try to emphasize the struggle to get there. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don’t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. | |
| A life immortalized by serpent eyes and a beautiful forked tongue. | |
| To beg for some restraint, it sounds the same as the day that we first met. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don’t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| Bend back the finger ’til it snaps to splintered bone and crushed veins. | |
| Scream out until both lungs collapse, “All hail the dark new campaign!” | |
| So now, drown it out in holy water, vicodin and dollar bills. | |
| Your dirty hands can thread the needle through your skin, but they can’t wash away your guilt. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. |
| To stop a setting sun whose time has come on the day of a lifetime. | |
| A crime you didn' t try to emphasize the struggle to get there. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don' t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. | |
| A life immortalized by serpent eyes and a beautiful forked tongue. | |
| To beg for some restraint, it sounds the same as the day that we first met. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don' t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| Bend back the finger ' til it snaps to splintered bone and crushed veins. | |
| Scream out until both lungs collapse, " All hail the dark new campaign!" | |
| So now, drown it out in holy water, vicodin and dollar bills. | |
| Your dirty hands can thread the needle through your skin, but they can' t wash away your guilt. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. |
| To stop a setting sun whose time has come on the day of a lifetime. | |
| A crime you didn' t try to emphasize the struggle to get there. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don' t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. | |
| A life immortalized by serpent eyes and a beautiful forked tongue. | |
| To beg for some restraint, it sounds the same as the day that we first met. | |
| Face it, this is a war that you are losing. | |
| A scarlet letter etched upon your trembling chest. | |
| So scratch your skin to feel alive, an amateur surgery. | |
| Don' t pluck the splinter from your eye, the joys of life are gory. | |
| Bend back the finger ' til it snaps to splintered bone and crushed veins. | |
| Scream out until both lungs collapse, " All hail the dark new campaign!" | |
| So now, drown it out in holy water, vicodin and dollar bills. | |
| Your dirty hands can thread the needle through your skin, but they can' t wash away your guilt. | |
| There is a special place in hell for people like you. |