At night they're whispering I can't stand their voices The things they want from me, to bring them flesh Still I succumb to the slaughter I provide their greed Another dead, another strangled My hands do their deeds Fulfill their wretched dreams And in a twisted way I need it Slowly, death will not be quick Struggling to survive Thriving, on their fear At night they're whispering I can't stand their voices The things they want from me, to bring them flesh My hands do their deeds Fulfill their wretched dreams And in a twisted way I need it