Ash, bones, frost
Live on the floor
Photos of the past
That broke bad
I haven't shaved my beard again
Or combed my hair
And when it gets dark
A black shadow approaches
The Swan of Death!
The wife is calling, do not answer
The wife is calling just
To divide our stuff
To take posession of our kids
From underwear ads
I look for a woman to be my wife and
Draw curtains, lock doors
Look for live ammo for my gun
The Swan of Death!