For The Black Hand At Dawn

Some call it pain some call it love

There was a black hand at dawn
You found a purpose in a glove
And on the day that you had stolen from me
Some call it pain some call it love

The hermit rests beneath your skin
And keeps on waiting 'till you deal
The cards that rest your empty skull
A mind that's broken does not heal

Seven deadly sins
That lead us to our virtue
Every single one of them applied
A lying tongue
A wicked heart
A hand that's stained with blood
Deception, mischief, want for more and pride
Pride

A mind that's broken does not heal