His bloody pickaxe murder
Will lead to our untimely happiness
That horrible usurper
Is now just rotting flesh
Buried under piles of dirt
Let’s see you attempt to flirt
So much work and dedication
Into this?!?!?
It’s nowhere near what you wished
But it’s unavoidable
People like him make me regurgitate my 99 cent value meal
You refuse to accept the reality of his death
One cold night you dig him up
And fall asleep by his side
I awake to the noise of you caressing him
Quickly I reach for a baseball bat
I walk outside to the grave you accompany
And beat your brains down your throat
Relationships like that make me regurgitate my sanity.
The mountain of flesh looms over the horizon, blocking out the sun.
All those fleshlings that have wronged me…their lives are now done.
I am the ender of existing.
I am the true incarnation of Christ.
I’ll judge whether you live or die.
I AM YOUR RELIGION, BITCH!
You are no longer alive.
My brutal axe will sever your limbs, chop you up to pieces and it’s time to join the others.
On my Human Hill, all my enemies lay.
My Human Hill consists of the millions I slay.
The rotting corpse of a two-week old enemy stares back at me with widened eyes.
Because I know it doesn’t see or feel, I curse its spirit.
I am the hater of all things human.
And things that I despise
Are things that DIE!
I collect the bodies in a large sack.
And dump them out with the rest of the pack.
The stench of death causes regurgitation.
But a can of Lysol takes it all away.
Things are so perfect on my Human Hill.
I sit upon it, pondering who I should kill next.
So many people to let suffer, so little time.
While rolling in a puddle of my own sin I noticed you and your black leather.
I wish there was a way to convince my vocal chords that it’s time to start getting to work.
Though I’m a bit unsure what all those bracelets mean I think we share a trait.
It’s not a huge one and it’s not all that obvious but I am quite the digger.
With a shovel in my hand I can plow through your brain,
and take that however you want, baby.
It sucks that your life sucks, but mine does too. (sort of)
Would you like to go with me into that long forgotten and abandoned building?
I think I heard that it was haunted.
Are you into that stuff?
Do you want to film a snuff?
Or are you satisfied with the way things are?
Screw the limo, baby, we can get a hearse…
Are you up to it, pitch black succubus?
She darkens my days and I love it.