In Hell Is Where She Waits for Me-The Black Dahlia Murder

In Hell Is Where She Waits for Me - The Black Dahlia Murder [Spoken intro] 1. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. 3. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. 4. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. — Psalm 23 (King James Version) I watch the bitter tears slalom down grief-stricken faces For a moments time I feel I am the god of which they speak Under the guise of anonymity, I masquerade in thrilling mockery Erection juts begrudgingly from 'twixt my silken Sunday pleats The coffin is sealed, face to go unrevealed But I dare know what lies underneath— Two bloodless halves of a dark flower, dead Whose dream turned the nightmare that dwells beneath our darkened beds How pathetically I broke her like a doll of porcelain I found her primed for a raping that could never be In wanton fallacy the temptress played; deceiving, taunting charming fools like me Her silhouette, an hourglass whose sands of time would empty fast “A rose must remain with the sun and the rain Or its lovely promise won’t come true...” They call me the nightfall, the colder than death A winter unending that’s stolen her breath Dead and famous— at last she’s made it Her mangled face— haunting, shameless The death of peace— endarkened times Crowned an immortal, yet stricken of life The headlines read: “YOUNG STARLET— DEAD!" Drained of her lifesblood and nourished with shit Sodomized, defeminized Silent, the victor— vengeance is mine In hell... In hate... In hell is where she waits for me Seductress burns in sin The succubus, deceased The funeral has ceased, you can all rest at ease My desire be not to kill again I’ll now disappear, leaving legend to fear So lock every door tight from now until eternity Dead and famous— at last, she’s made it Her mangled face— smiling, shameless The death of peace— endarkened times Crowned an immortal, yet stricken of life The headlines read: “YOUNG STARLET— DEAD!” Drained of her lifesblood and nourished with shit Sodomized, defeminized I am the victor— vengeance is mine I watched the bitter tears slalom down grief-stricken faces For a moments time I feel I am the god of which they speak I, the misogynist Her crooked smile, my seal of hatred Incarnate of the beast— The god of which they speak