Children of the Dead A.Salt, P.Tipping, K.O'Reilly Would you kill yourself If I told you Would you slice your soul away Would you sing and dance In a zombie trance And make yourself a slave Try to run if you want to But you can't escape my touch Cause Hades won't wait 'til A later date And how I crave your taste So much Children of the dead Rise up from your tomb The damp earth of your grave The warmth of your Mothers womb Hate me Hate me For I no longer care Fear me Fear me I feel the truth lies there Burn me Burn me To silence the bad dreams Kill me Kill me Hear this banshee scream The Spanish inquisition Is alive and well today The media's on a witch-hunt Another victim comes to play As children laugh as you Take a bath In a pool of your own blood When the ratings die They hang you high And take a knife And cut you up And the children laugh As you take a bath In a pool of your own blood And when the blood's all dry It reveals the lies The ones that fucked you up