Oh, you pretty little lump,
Laying on the ground, you flail
Your arms grasp, feet kick,

Further, and further, you slip
Down, down to the darkness of death.
You cry out for help,

Yet music still pounds
Loudly, as my axe makes canals
For your sweet blood to flow,

Crashing on the floor.
Finally, your heart stops,
And I discard

Your severed body
and hang your head with the rest.
Sweet dreams, my love,
And now you may sleep.