the grave robber's work

ritual of desecration

the grave robber's work is never done

it's up all night and sleep all day

the hours are shit with hell to pay. pockets are brimming from our unique brand of sinning

when the ladies claw my back at night

i know i'm doing something right. i deliver the goods as long as they don't ask

deny

deny

deny

i'm a working stiff like dear old dad

and to you and yours nothing but curses

you'll slave your life away

and for what?

you're just as dead as these old fucks. they'll never get me

i'll never run out of stock

with every second that ticks past

the bodies are still stacking up. so i've clipped a few fingers off to get that gold for which i lust from the deadman's bank and trust

to the depths of hell or bust. the blackened bits of exhumed evidence embedded neath my fettered fingernails

it's but a smallish part of what our dirty work entails. come dance with me

this graveyard planet that you've called earth you hold in such a high regard

it's but as worthless as a turd. will you follow me into the dark?

will you follow me into the dark?

i rob the dead for what they're worth

jewels

wealth

clothing

sex. when the mood prefers to carve a sullen path through life

within the fallen's shoes you'd turn your nose at me

although i smell of sheik perfumes. so i've clipped a few fingers off to get that gold for which i lust from the deadman's bank and trust

to the depths of hell or bust. i'm haunted by faces when i try to close my eyes

so deeply it festers

the guilt is murder. the blackened bits of exhumed evidence embedded neath my fettered fingernails

it's but a smallish part of what our dirty work entails. may the gods have mercy

may the gods have mercy.