When you hear a flatline, you know surely I'll be near. To when the reaper's sickle is drawn, I am ever aware. I wish I could pull these strings. In death there are finer things. Malpractice forever be my bitter name.

How quickly life does fade away, but a flip of the river man's coin could send you screaming to your grave.

[Solo]


Pull the plug (I'm begging you), take the ride to the cold and blue. The reaper's yellow lichen finger aims ever so true. The origins of disease I have witnessed in my dreams. The flooding of the blackest blood to quench my fetid needs.

I wish I could pull these strings. In death there are finer things. Malpractice forever be my bitter name. I wish I could pull these strings. In death there are finer things.