The Sick

Don't think I can't see through you
Don't think you would ever fool me
I'll get what's coming to me

>From the womb unto the tomb
The stagnant air that fills the room
Into the shrine where you have knelt
You felt the buckle now feel the belt

Your deepest cut will leave no mark
This sceptic skin will never scar
Come breathe some light into this dark

*Be penitent and penetrate
Between the liquor and all these lies
See past the bruises of this hate
Come face to face and meet your fate

**The weak will walk the sick will see
Caress my cursed soul for me
These begging hands will prey with glee
Upon your blackened fists and knees

This sleuth hound is the Lord lies
This boiling pot will draw the flies
Write one more cheque before you die

**Repeat
*Repeat
**Repeat

Don't think I can't see through ya
Do ya think I'd ever fool ya
You'll get what's coming to ya
You'll get what's coming to ya
You'll get what's coming to ya
The weak will walk the sick will see
Caress my cursed soul for me
These begging hands will prey with glee
Upon your blackened fists and knees