(a) God.

I've cut my name into the hilt of this blade Hidden under my kilt I'll soften the blow with well-meant cruelness I'll soften the blade on your ligaments I've carved my name into your leg The land it knows from word of mouth I'll soften the blow with well-meant cruelness I'll soften the blade on your ligaments I've made a frame, but you don't fit it I'm not to blame; its your consciousness I'll soften the blow with well-meant cruelness I'll soften the blade on your ligaments It's cold down here I'd know, I made it It's becoming clear That you don't belong naked I'm beating a horse thats been dead too long You're running your course, please crash head-on I'll soften the blow with well-meant cruelness I'll soften the blade on your ligaments I've made a frame, but you don't fit it I'm not to blame; its your consciousness It's cold down here I'd know, I made it It's becoming clear That you don't belong naked