You have made me into a miserable wretch I can feel you feasting upon my neck The lies flow off your tongue into my heart You love the taste of a soul, slick down your throat You love the feeling of triumph over the weak You want to be that which poisons my mind I can see you trying to make me blind The knife you held so high will be your own death Always feasting, glutting, sick Pulling me in with your tricks Bane, deceitful, evil thing Why are you still lingering?