Cut, cut, cut,
A little deeper each time,
A little deeper each thought,
A little deeper each mime.

With every single cut,
I feel power is gained,
I love to see the blood,
And I love to feel the pain.

The crimson coloured blood,
Trickles down my wing,
I love the way it looks,
And I start to sing.

Sing a dead silent song,
Which only I can hear,
Where all my dreams lie lost,
And all my fears draw near.

 
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