The First Shall Be Last

The first shall be last And the last shall be first That is the irony Of my bloodthirst I stalk the dark night That is only lit up by the light from the windows Barely visible I look into your house I see you I see your husband I see your children They are sound asleep You sit in your rocking chair A book in your wrinkled hands You have probably forgotten me But I could never forget you The first shall be last And the last shall be first That is the irony Of my bloodthirst Now the house is dark No light exits no more So now it is my time My time to shine I enter Through the door I know you never lock When you go to bed So carefree a spirit With rope in hand And several handkerchiefs All are bound, one by one Quietly in the night The first shall be last And the last shall be first That is the irony Of my bloodthirst I carry your children to the living room Place them gently on your couch I drag your man to the living room And throws him to the floor I drag you into the living room And seat you in your rocking chair And now this living room Has turned into a torture chamber