Text: Wax Tailor. The Man with no Soul.

I?d be happy to face
The coming of your disgrace
You never seem to erase
Some sort of bitter taste
In it for the money
But you will have to pay
Or die chocking on cherry
And with it be buried

The man without ear
The man without heart
The man with no spine
The man with no soul

You?re the man without friends
Leading a small life
Just trying to hide out
Your lack of any talent
I?ll be happy to face
The coming of your disgrace

The man without ear
The man without heart
The man with no spine
The man with no soul

You?ll end up alone