I don't want some young boy
rife with bad French poetry,
trying to give me le petit morte.
Come get and me, Boneshaker.
Baby, you know who you are.
The one who'll grab it by the throat before it's gone.

Honey, I'm a Soul-eater.
Dark with shadow,
I'm the Reaper, and it's harvest time.
Armageddon in your arms?
Bring it on, baby, bring it on,
I've got something for you.

The others didn't make it.
But baby, you're smarter than that.
Older than dirt.
Dirtier than love.
Slip it to me, do it to me, do it right.

Honey, put the hurt on me,
black and true blue.
Give me that cadaver's ring.
She doesn't need it anymore,
and I've got plans for you.

Yellow-eyed and low down,
entrails bleached white.
I've got that hard luck story.
I need someone to do it right.

Kiss me baby, harder.
Honey, it's coming, can't you see?
You know you want it, sweet thing.
C'mon, baby, tell me.

I'll drag my fingers down your face,
find your favorite artery.
I'll be a good girl, baby.
and close your eyes for free.