Each time i make my mother cry an
  angel dies and falls from heaven
  when the boy is still a worm it's hard to
  learn the number seven
  but when they get to you
  it's the first thing that they do
  each time I look outside
  my mother dies, I feel my back is changing shape
  when the worm consumes the boy it's never
  considered rape
  when they get to you
  Prick your finger it is done...
  the moon has now eclipsed the sun...
  the angel has spread its wings...
  the time has come for bitter things...