There she sits, all alone,
Waiting anxiously by the phone.
The boxes are packed, all in stacks,
As she prays he will soon be back.
She wants to hear him say, no, no,
Baby, I'm coming home.
There he waits, was it a mistake,
How much more could he take.
His thoughts regress, he does regret,
His voice earlier should have expressed.
Then he wouldn't have to hear her beg,
Baby, please come on home.
Come now three years later in life,
Someone else almost became his wife.
Though she still dreams of him sometimes,
They are both doing just fine.
Each of them know the truth, no, no,
They are all home.
Those whom we've lost, those we pray to,
Provide us love, and guide us all though.
Those like my brother, or my first love,
They joined all angels in heaven above.
Providing us peace, our loved ones are here.
They see are joy and help dry our tears.
Talk to the spirits, do not try to hide.
Our memories and prayers keep them alive.
Death is a comfort to victims of your hunt.
All because of the glory you seek and want.
Fathers, brothers, best friends were sold,
To you by Satan, the bastard of lies told.
Their minds clouded by the morphine drip,
Ignoring their souls, that from them you rip.
Laughing and smiling as loved ones weep,
You mock their need for eternal sleep.
Catching those you almost lost,
Killing them slowly to win at all cost.
Let us chain you down in Satan's well,
So you can serve an eternity in hell.
