Beg to be seen
Write of wicked things
Never quite seen
I am the devil
I am your worst fear
And this is not your playing field
Lies fall short
When you're talking to me
Don't bother to hold your breath
You're falling now
I've let you go
I've washed you away
My hands may never be clean
But they're free of your blood
Your hatred will no longer drip from their tips
Taste my bitterness on your tongue
For it will be the last thing you'll ever have from me