Agatha

I used to go to the market, she sent me to buy some groseries
To buy this tiny little things for today..s meal

I..ve seent he kitchen, I..ve seen the spoon
I..ve seen she cooking, I..ve heard their doom

Scratching sounds on the walls
That keep me awake
And I hear they scream
They..ll never get away

Sounds of depression, sounds of pretention
They..re being slowly killed
When Agatha mixes de flavor of pain
With spicy adrenaline.
Groing crazy, the recipe of death
Emotionless eyes glaring today
I saw it coming, I knew what..d happen
The potfull of the pain of mine.

Over, over the stove, I..m over
Over, over the stove, I..m over
Over, over the stove, I..m over
I..m through, I..m through, I..m dying over the stove Over the stove holding to life
Noone can hear you screaming or crying
Tearing and melting over the pan,
Dying slowly in Agatha..s hands

Over, over the stove, I..m over
Over, over the stove, I..m over
Over, over the stove, I..m over
I..m through, I..m through, I..m dying over the stove