Oh Bless are thy, Corpsman three.
For are not but, thrice be.
With not but sinew and bone, sundered are we.
Oh nearly a heart beat, with out soul.
We speak on to thy, thrice be.
With cries of tarrow, you give to me, reason be.
Oh bless are thy, Corpsman three.
For yet more, are there to be.
With not but cinder and ash, Sundered are we.
Oh nearly a heart beat, with out soul.
We weep on to thy, thrice be.
With cries of sorrow, you give to me, reason be.
Oh bless are thy, Corpsman three.
For are not we, but thrice be.
With not but fire and brimstone, we give on to thy.
The final testament, thrice be.
