Out of the way, there is a quiet place
Where there's no skin to scar and there's no time to waste
Full of emptiness, I cannot touch the bottom
Lines on her face, falling in her autumn
With her, while she withers
Away
In a mangel-wurzel for the cattle
Washing for the battle hymn to hurry up and hold on
Slaughter is to you a manicure, her nails on impaled palms
Springing out of this flesh, stirs a life at the bottom
With her, while she withers
Away
With her, while she withers
Away
Away
With her, while she withers
Away
Away
Away
Away, hey, hey
Away
Aaaaah...
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