For thou sweepest me in thy robe of guilt
With garments forged in spiteful steel
No tainted pride shall make conviction cease
None shall be unto thee proven worthy of thy utmost fear
Let alone the silent longing instinct shun the ones you dear
As the hunter boldly stalks his prey, intoxicated
Conviction reigns where truth might sway intimidated
Silence the bore shun the ones you dear
The hunt is over so the feast begins
What feast is enduring when all is said and done
Ever change of hearts, the hunter's reason fail
The hunt is treason
The hunt is over so the feast begins
Why search for endurance when all is said and done?

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