| All Love is Gone |
| The cold on your throat is my hand Lurking in the dark, lurking in the light I'm here to haunt you I am your fright The marks on your skin are marks of my seed And the pain you feel is forever breeding And all your flesh is grass in my hands And all the skin rots as autumn grass The dark you see is the dark I am I rip your heart out, I am your sandman And all your flesh is grass in my hands And all the skin rots as autumn grass |