WhitechapelTo All That Are Dead

I am the one who is always exhuming I am the one you think you see in the darkest of nights I have yet to reconcile the thoughts within myself For still I am one with the dead Oh, sanguine blood of thy corpse Quench my thirst and stain my skin Oh, how ironic it is to feel so alive When you cease to exist I adore what I have become I have longed for such a love in my dreams And my wrath will not subside until this love is mine Forever I remain the hideous figure treading these unholy grounds For I have failed the one who has created me My conscious is telling me to ingest the flesh of the deceased And with my tongue I shall lick the graves of all who will follow me Mark my words, they will pay I still am one with the dead And I swear to all that are dead
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