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Each time I make my mother cry anAngel dies and falls from heavenWhen the boy is still a worm it's hard toLearn the number sevenBut when they get to youIt's the first thing that they doEach time I look outsideMy mother dies, I feel my back is changing shapeWhen the worm consumes the boy it's neverConsidered rapeWhen they get to youPrick your finger it is done...The moon has now eclipsed the sun...The angel has spread it's wings...The time has come for bitter things...
Each time I make my mother cry anAngel dies and falls from heavenWhen the boy is still a worm it's hard toLearn the number sevenBut when they get to youIt's the first thing that they doEach time I look outsideMy mother dies, I feel my back is changing shapeWhen the worm consumes the boy it's neverConsidered rapeWhen they get to youPrick your finger it is done...The moon has now eclipsed the sun...The angel has spread it's wings...The time has come for bitter things...
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