I was born to die about a mile or so from here, in this little shitty town with its two bars and an old saw mill. And I will kill again. Just let me taste the summer's kiss carried on the wind. We sat and watched the sky turn from gray to green. We watched the clouds take on new forms, your eyes clear and crystalline. I buried you that night in the small wood near the mill. Singing, I was born to die, my love. I was born to kill.