I'm heading for the graveyard that lays ahead In white-cold silence and time has come For me to collect wages Peacefully I watch the picture for the power is on my side I smell the candles, I hear their feeble cracking As they keep burning amidst headstones conceived From insides of the dead I do close in, and reach out for their heat My nostrils frail as if I were a beat Just when the sworming of those who've perished Reaches my bare feet I rule as king over this wasteland I'm torn apart by hunger and possesion Endless passing thoughts are haunting me and I am sad Too violent fleshlights caress my mind The way that water soothes The thirsty lips of the condemned The grey-robed mourners are silenced now And store at me as if they were awaiting Some sign from high above