Besedila: Villagers. Becoming a Jackal. The Meaning of the Ritual.

My love is selfish
And I bet that yours is too
What is this peculiar thing called truth

My love is selfish
And it cares not who it hurts
It will cut you out to satisfy its thirst
For the meaning of a ritual so habitual
and cursed

My love is selfish
How it separates the earth
It takes every shiny stone but leaves the dirt

For the cowards in the corner who just don't know what they are worth

They have been twisted by a hollow kind of pain
I can see it in their eyes but I ignore it everyday

Because my love is selfish
And it remembers everything
Like the first time it was moved enough to sing

How it dangled on that stage just like a puppet on a string