| Sew up the upholstery | |
| The heart's been removed | |
| Compelled by contempt | |
| The sentence renewed | |
| The reflection of a sickle | |
| Glows in her eyes | |
| As the urge grows | |
| Like a swelling too lustful to hide | |
| Her grief-laced ears hear the sermon of lies | |
| Devouring her soul as the blade dives | |
| Confront the one you are | |
| Made flesh again | |
| Voraciously pushed and shoved | |
| Made flesh again | |
| The utterly nothing role of a whore | |
| Makes her perfectly suitable | |
| Like cholera she'll walk in our midst | |
| Fortune has made her our macabre bliss | |
| A body preserved in chloroform | |
| Trapped inside the gates of Hell | |
| Her body travels in human form | |
| Dismembered in a vague shell | |
| Confront the one you are | |
| Made flesh again | |
| Voraciously pushed and shoved | |
| Made flesh again | |
| Again and again and again | |
| Like cholera she'll walk in our midst | |
| Fortune has made her our macabre bliss |
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