Besedila: Swans. The great AnnIhilator. My Buried Child.

My frozen empty violent mind caressed the hidden hair
That shines with liquid lust I left behind
Your body stained with ruined eyes
I cut the skin
Concealed the crimes
With liquid hate I left inside
And loneliness is buried here
In rotting holes beneath your fear
Your agony
Your twisted struggle
Two bodies sink in meat-blood strangled
The smell of death
Your tortured gash
Enfold me in your mother's arms
Now hold me in your mother's arms