Patrick Swayzee Was No Kurt Russel

We are the wolves
outside your door
That will, devour the flock
And feast, upon the flesh
Of those, who would subdue us

So keep an ear to the ground
And your head above the water
Or else you'll find
Yourself, lead to this slaughter

Time will tell secrets
But the dead will tell no tales
I'll peel the flesh from your face
Just to take a taste
Of the beauty, thats made you so
Damn proud

With your bones
I will make
A melody
To tug
At your heart strings
An ode
To all
Of the truly
Beautiful things
That you destroyed

Tell me
Does it feel good
To have their blood
On your hands?

I can't believe
That it's come to this
Oh no I can't
I can't believe
That you've become this

Rotting away
You've become
Useless

And with no legs
Left to spread
You will never
Find love again

So wipe that smile
Off your face
And Hail to the king
Hail to the king