Corpse Paint Blues

There's a black and white face staring back at me
Above the bathroom sink, my long hair is thinning
I own a cafe called The Mausoleum
We only serve coffee black and single-origin goat's blood
Surrounded by sheep skulls and espresso grounds
And baristas wearing painted frowns
I daydream of a family, a suburban life and a wife
But it's hard to get ahead looking undead
Fuck humanity

I haven't been to church since I torched one
I pray to Burzum not to God
A misanthropic world view and a Bathory tattoo
I've got the corpse paint blues

This year's vacation will take me to Norway
A blackpacking trip to the eye of the storm
I'll see the basement where they planned the fires
And grab a coffee at what used to be Helvete

Maybe I'll meet a pagan metal queen
In a bullet belt and Venom tee
A Nordic girl with a desk job, a nice salary, normalcy
An unreasonable boss, an upside down cross in her cubicle

I spend my weekends in the forest
Reading Lords of Chaos by light of the moon
It's my Merciful Fate I'll never find a date
I've got the corpse paint blues