Let's go, ayy

This poor creature in these photographs
(Dead)
Tortured (Dead) , bloody, buried bare funeral dressings in 1920 (Oh)
Blood dyes a gold around her
Neck into a rust-red (Dead)
How can any man lay sleeping
With her on their conscience?

Lord, help me navigate this
Mess I stumbled onto
The deviancy permeates my senses
In a dark room
Tossed away a horror, Southern Scotland
To a dark grave, uh
(Dead)
Sot is the only mess upon her pale face
Slowly lifе in Glasgow holds a sour taste
Rainy nights and steep rock
By the harsh waves (Murdеr)
Purity on this shelf is but a dream state
Yuh, sanity and myself just had to part ways
Down the turn I guess (True)
Me and all attempts to give
Her a fitting rest (No)
It adds up, no it don't
This a cult, I know (Cult)
Sit and collect the bones (Bones)
There the eyes upon us
You're not safe at home
Hand signs they're not deaf, plus words
Are all done with their left, uh
I seen a sacrifice come to fruition, I
Cannot be scared that I'm next, uh
(Scared) i feel this shit in my chest, uh
I seen the runes getting dressed
My parents told me when younger
I didn't believe 'em till I saw
The mark on my head (Path to Hell)

Poor creature in these photographs
Tortured, bloody
Buried bare funeral dressings in 1920
Blood dyes a gold around her
Neck into a rust-red
How can any man lay sleeping
With her on their conscience?