Your heart
My soul
Your cart
My goal

I hate you
I'll mate you
I'll kill you
I'll bill you

Your money
My hunger
Your coming
My slumber

He gets it
Not me
What I do for you
Might not be

And when you go
And when you're gone
I look at myself,
Pull out the gun

For your pleasure,
It is business
For what it matters
It is illness

And now it moves within my gut,
And now I feel I am a slut
Your heart beats though I don't know you
You are part of me, what can I do?

You're gone, I'm here
With this I'm left
Thank you for this hell,
Thank you for your theft.

With this I am left.