There's a knock at the door.
Single strokes
Drowning notes
Of the phonograph in the den.
For every horrific pulse
Counting out this death waltz
Your heart beats five,
Pumping to provide blood,
Struggling to keep you alive.
Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!
You're going to die!
Admire the blade's tip so fine...
Are they sinners?
Yes, sometimes.
So save your breath
You did what you could,
You locked the doors
Like you knew you should.
Begging's no good...
They aren't there anymore,
Just let the blood pool on the floor.
This morning seems colder,
And now you're alone.
But why did they do it?
Because you were home.
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