It's poetry carved in flesh,
this beautiful hell of ours.
To the deadliest sin, we confess.

We are safe where disfigured saints
cry out their prophecies of doom.

My heart's a graveyard, baby,
and to evil, we make love
on our passion's killing floor.
In my arms, you won't sleep safely.
And of lust we are reborn
on our passion's killing floor.

At the first kiss, the seeds of hatred are sewn.
Back into darkness, we flee.

We are saved where all faiths fail,
alive inside of our tomb.

My heart's a graveyard, baby,
and to evil, we make love
on our passion's killing floor.
In my arms, you won't sleep safely.
And of lust we are reborn
on our passion's killing floor.


My heart's a graveyard, baby,
and to evil, we make love
on our passion's killing floor.
In my arms, you won't sleep safely.
And of lust we are reborn
on our passion's killing floor.

Oh, my heart's a graveyard, baby.
On our passion's killing floor.

And to evil we make love!
On our passion's killing floor.
Forever more.