Opeth - Death Whispered A Lullaby

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some kill it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The cowrad kills it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword

Some kill their love when they are young
And some when they are old
Some strangle with the hands oh Lust
Some with the hands of Gold
The kindest use a knife because
The dead so soon grow cold

Some love too little, some too long
Some sell and others buy
Some do the deed with many tears
And some without a sigh
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
But each man does not die

(Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of The Reading Gaol)