Murder by Death. In Bocca al Lupo. One More Notch. Zeneszám

Hole up kid there's a storm comin' down
Work those fingers to the bone
You got grit that's a fact
You build 'em up just to knock 'em all down

Dig a hole that goes down deep in the ground
And when the time comes calling
As the earth all shudders at another beat, another beat
Another beat, another beat, another beat of the four horsemen

You aren't safe under the earth
Hiding your actions covered in dirt
Like a snake shedding its skin
You fuss up, you can start all over again

And the whirlwind lifts you up to the ceiling
The balconies pass but you don't even see them
As they go by and it whips your bodies higher and higher
When your lips lock you both catch on fire
The crowd covers their eyes

You've forgotten everything but yourselves
You don't really even matter to each other
It's the rush that you get when you know you've done wrong
As you bake your bodies separate but you never notice
That the other is burning, you just pity yourself

You aren't safe still on this earth
Hiding your actions covered in dirt
Like a snake shedding its skin
If you fuss up you can start all over again

And the whirlwind lifts you up to the ceiling
The balconies pass but you don't even see them
As they go by and it whips your bodies higher and higher
When your lips lock you both catch on fire
The crowd covers their eyes