| Don’t think I can’t see through you |
| Don’t think you would ever fool me |
| I’ll get what’s coming to me |
| From the womb unto the tomb |
| The stagnant air that fills the room |
| Into the shrine where you have knelt |
| You felt the buckle now feel the belt |
| Your deepest cut will leave no mark |
| This septic skin will never scar |
| Come breathe some light into my dark |
| Between the liquor and all these lies |
| See past the bruises of your hate |
| Come face to face and meet your fate |
| Caress my cursed soul for me |
| These begging hands will prey with glee |
| Upon your blackened fists and knees |
| This sleuth hound is the Lord of lies |
| This boiling pot will draw the flies |
| Write one more cheque before you die |
| Don’t think I can’t see through ya |
| Do ya think I’d ever fool ya |
| You’ll get what’s coming to ya |
| You’ll get what’s coming to ya |
| You’ll get what’s coming to ya |
| The weak will walk the sick will see |
| Caress my cursed soul for me |
| These begging hands will prey with glee |
| Upon your blackened fists and knees |