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The Haunted - Abysmal Lyrics



The Haunted - Abysmal Lyrics





[Lyrics: P. Dolving, Music: A. Bjorler / P. Dolving.]

[Dolving talks:]
Come a little bit closer.
So I can see what you taste like.
A pale face. A vision of suicide.
Dead ends and a St.Jude figurine.

Bury me in a shallow grave.
So the dogs can dig me out.
If I die tonight, well that suits me fine.
'Caus I'd be better off covered in lye.

[Chorus:]
This one is abysmal.
This one is a oneway ticket down.
Some say there ain't nothing to lose, but I lost that too.
So what am I gonna do?

I sold my soul for a reasonable stake.
The devil done paved the way.
And I'll claim the prize 'til the day I go,
When all hell comes to carry me home.

A beckoning shape. A crow to lead me on.
Lower me down below.

[Chorus:]
This one is abysmal.
This one is a oneway ticket down.
Some say there ain't nothing to lose, but I lost that too.
So what am I gonna do?

The Peripherol know the cold centre of hate,
It burns clean and kills the pain.
It'll cut you open and spit in your eyes.

A foul spectacle to behold.

A beckoning shape. A crow to lead me on.
Lower me down the hatch and swallow me whole.

Here I go...
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[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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[Lyrics: P. Dolving, Music: A. Bjorler / P. Dolving.]

[Dolving talks:]
Come a little bit closer.
So I can see what you taste like.
A pale face. A vision of suicide.
Dead ends and a St.Jude figurine.

Bury me in a shallow grave.
So the dogs can dig me out.
If I die tonight, well that suits me fine.
'Caus I'd be better off covered in lye.

[Chorus:]
This one is abysmal.
This one is a oneway ticket down.
Some say there ain't nothing to lose, but I lost that too.
So what am I gonna do?

I sold my soul for a reasonable stake.
The devil done paved the way.
And I'll claim the prize 'til the day I go,
When all hell comes to carry me home.

A beckoning shape. A crow to lead me on.
Lower me down below.

[Chorus:]
This one is abysmal.
This one is a oneway ticket down.
Some say there ain't nothing to lose, but I lost that too.
So what am I gonna do?

The Peripherol know the cold centre of hate,
It burns clean and kills the pain.
It'll cut you open and spit in your eyes.

A foul spectacle to behold.

A beckoning shape. A crow to lead me on.
Lower me down the hatch and swallow me whole.

Here I go...
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: ANDERS MARTIN BJOERLER, JONAS FREDRIK BJOERLER, PATRIK JENSEN, PER MOELLER JENSEN, PETER WILHARD INGVAR DOLVING
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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