As the bodies of souls and graves, to people who were so unlucky with the feeling of their fault or forced hand. i sing this little tune, and bay on this sweet luliaby. There's a story for you, and you can put it in tune. this is no tela-thing to keep you company nor seek that third eye to see beyond our painless execution. So lower head and let the scythe go down, as we are all just toy's to the person who sought a fate people did not want, as a tophat and nothing but void on his skin and a smile of death making a show for him and him alone. So they dance and play as puppets, heroine running away from the very evil that they ended now hoping it will end soon.
