gave me a bad review And maybe you think that it's all just water under the bridge Well my UNfriend, I'm the type that holds a grudge I'm your creator
cracks form As I knelt to pray I did not see the crevice yawn, no Sometimes At night I feel the end it is at hand My pistol going crazy in my hand For
man And I've walked a crooked mile Night, the shameless widow Doffed her weeds, in a pile The stars all winked at me They shamed a child Your funeral, my trial
in whoredom ring All the crooked bitches that she was Mongers of pain saw the moon become a fang Your funeral, my trial, your funeral, my trial Your funeral, my trial