Sleep little baby, don't say a word.
The World is trying to kill you with a big black sword.
And If you speak they'll know you're here,
and from your neck will spill a big red tear.
They'll take your soul and snap your spine.
You'll cry the salt from the life decline.
They'll press the sword against your neck.
Giving your vein an imish peck.
Blood will pour and cover the floor.
Yet you don't know what they adore.
They check your wrist, and then your thigh.
Letting their voice be heard near by.
Your heart then falls and breaks apart.
Killing the silence like a golden dart.
The mirror cracks, and burns the ground.
Hurting them from all around.
Your death will finally set them free.
Giving yourself a sickening glee.
They then crawl back into a womb.
Finding a child for them to consume.
And once they do the story will start.
The child will then replace your part.
