Easy come, easy go
The price is not high for your lowly soul
Only fools will offer nothing
In hopes that sorrows will turn to gold
The pages of the book are closing
And you're stuck in between
Holding out your hands
So undeserving
All you want you cannot have
Easy come, easy go
Not enough to pay the toll
Laid bare upon the altar
In hopes that sorrows will turn to gold
I smell the stench of fear
Seeping from your flesh
Hexes hang on your lips
Conjuring the spell
On thy own behalf
Take the fruit straight from the tree
Never will you plant the seed
Fingers betwixt
Levy asunder
No mercy
No sympathy
Washed away by the crashing waves
Dashed on the rocks and dragged to the depths
Unholy Shepard rising on
Gather your flock and slaughter the rest
No mercy
No sympathy
Harsh justice
Pure treachery
No mercy
No sympathy
No respite
Eternally
Easy come, easy go
The price is not high for your lowly soul