Prankquean کے بول

All rise Little did I know there was want for naught Little did I know she could smell the rot And I need to confess I need to confess Little did I know there was room for loss Little did I know I'm the albatross And I need to confess There are bodies under the floor All things come in threes Like the six on her dress of gore Every fire lit has been started by her Cosmic arson Everything you taste is the flesh of a child Killed by her Trust her knife, though microscopic it Hurts where you need to feel Divine scourge and iron swords cut the Stone made of flesh Little did I know there was want for naught