The Hound (of Blood and Rank)

Was it in the cold of that knife you screwed?

In the heart of the enduring

'Cause when you opened that door, you knew,

Well now there'd be no returning

Or room to mourn what we have lost and to wait while the willing.

As you're the hound of blood and rank

And boy, you've got another thing coming.

Come on, come on, come on