Quickly moving in the morning before the corpse gets cold
Doesn't matter whether young or old
Up the mountain now we make our climb, everyone knows its feeding time
So they sharpen their knives
Sharpen the blades,
Close your eyes'
It'll be OK
Let's take a walk to where the vultures roam
Feast upon the bodies, clean em' down to the bone,
Strip away the cartilage, and rip out the eyes
This is what'll happen to you when you die.
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Find the mortician with a bag on his head
Watch him as he slices bits of flesh of the dead
Drinks away his whiskey as a mean to atone,
He's never sober, he can't do it alone
So he sharpens his knives,
Sharpens his blades,
Close your eyes,
It'll be ok
Let's take a walk to where the vultures roam
Feast upon the bodies, clean em' down to the bone,
Strip away the cartilage, and rip out the eyes
This is what'll happen to you when you die.
Seven hundred winged creatures waiting in lines,
67 eyes are focused watching em' dine
7 of the brethren are turning their heads
This is how the village people bury their dead,
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