Ill of the dead

I speak ill of the dead
I like to watch you bleed
There is no-one around here
No-one to hear your screams
Don't look back
I can hear your breath
A sudden slash
Precedes a crimson stream
I speak ill of the dead because you're here with me
But you can't hear you can't see
I sleep through the day and I'll defile you at night
I lurk in the shadows of travellers minds

The thrill of the chase the smell of the prey
I'm here to make sure this is your last day

I speak ill of the dead I watch the insects feed
Cold and spread beneath a pile of leaves
You cannot be saved and nothing was seen
I speak ill of the dead and I spit on your grave

The thrill of the chase the smell of the prey
I'm here to make sure this is your last day

I speak ill of the dead I watch the insects feed
Cold and spread beneath a pile of leaves
You cannot be saved and nothing was seen
I speak ill of the dead and I spit on your grave