Timber Timbre Demon Host
Death she must have been your will
A bone beneath the reaper’s veil
With your voice my belly sunk
And I began to feel so drunk
Candle candle on my clock
Oh lord I must have heard you knock me out of bed
As the flames licked my head and my lungs filled up black
in their tiny little shack
It was real and I repent
All those messages you sent clear as day, but in the
night
Oh I couldn’t get it right
Here is a church and here is a steeple
Open the doors there are the people
And all their little hearts at ease
For another week’s disease
And eagle eagle towel and scream
I never once left in between
I was on the fence and I never wanted your two cents
Down my throat in the pit, with my head upon the spit
Oh reverend please can I chew your ear? I have become
what I most fear
And I know there’s no such thing as ghosts but I have
seen the demon host…
