Текст: Exhumed. Death Walks Behind You.
Strike my name from the book of life
Inscribed forever in the book of death
Destroyer, life taker, the end and the omega
Death walks behind you, waiting to find you to dismember
The bloody work of death is not too great a task
All this and more, I now hold in my grasp
Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp
Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last
Ends such as yours are the trade that I ply
Stricken by death as your life flashes by from an autopsy
To a cemetery, then to the grave, your final destiny carnage
And sin are my blood, kith and kin, and to your end, they will be
As all begins, so all must end, now your end I shall begin
From dust to dust, return again, life ends in sin
The circle turns back on itself, life ends in death and pain and hell
And dead men have no tales to tell, nor souls to sell
Death walks at my right hand, and there's a knife-blade in my left
Turning living into dying, soon to be friends and mourners crying
Dispossessing the flesh, leaving death
But no clues for the finding
The bloody work of death is not too great a task
All this and more, I now hold in my grasp
Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp
Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last
Inscribed forever in the book of death
Destroyer, life taker, the end and the omega
Death walks behind you, waiting to find you to dismember
The bloody work of death is not too great a task
All this and more, I now hold in my grasp
Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp
Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last
Ends such as yours are the trade that I ply
Stricken by death as your life flashes by from an autopsy
To a cemetery, then to the grave, your final destiny carnage
And sin are my blood, kith and kin, and to your end, they will be
As all begins, so all must end, now your end I shall begin
From dust to dust, return again, life ends in sin
The circle turns back on itself, life ends in death and pain and hell
And dead men have no tales to tell, nor souls to sell
Death walks at my right hand, and there's a knife-blade in my left
Turning living into dying, soon to be friends and mourners crying
Dispossessing the flesh, leaving death
But no clues for the finding
The bloody work of death is not too great a task
All this and more, I now hold in my grasp
Like the fear that holds you fast, like the last breath you cannot gasp
Your end comes slashing down, your death revealed at last
Exhumed
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