The Resurrection [2]

I wonder whats wrong with me.
Dont need no dreams, no ambitions, no love.
To survive.
All I need is a knife and a white dove.

I cut myself in all places,
As you look on in horror, all I want is to cry out loud,
But your honest face looks pained,
Crippling fear. And I forgive you, gagged and bound.

Dead letters to a sinner far away,
Somehow, I know that I'm haunted enough.
They say that I mustn't kill, its wrong, its wrong.
Shroud in shadows, I slay,
Blood, bone, spittle and cough.

Father you wronged us, and confined us to hell,
Your holy water can do us no harm, this white dove is dead.
Don't want to lay it down here,
Say your prayers, Father, and hope your bed is made.

Every man lives, not every man truly dies,
The ice-cold steel of my knife will not touch you,
But as you sing a lullaby to your child.
Madness will smear her with crimson hue.