|
Cutting through your clothes, trying to reach your flesh |
|
Let my fingers feel your pure white skin |
|
I love to see your fears reflected in your eyes |
|
We're going to have a party, you and me |
|
My little hatchets edge is longing for your skull |
|
It wants to see the texture of your brain |
|
My surgery's a lark, |
|
I'm quite a wacky guy |
|
Not cracked and weird like everybody else |
|
Scream to your heart's content |
|
As your veins |
|
I happily shred |
|
Systematically slicing up your cheeks |
|
Drilling holes in your wrists to be chic |
|
Intestines |
|
I entwine, dripping juices, sludge and gunk |
|
Taking pictures to remind me when |
|
I'm bored and down on luck |
|
What a thrill it is to feel the inside of your head |
|
Your thoughts |
|
I seem to sense, but that's not possible as you seem to be quite dead |
|
Inserting safety pins, |
|
Stimulated by my sins, |
|
Your relics just for me |
|
Cause I love you, can't you see? |
|
Your pubes |
|
I pierce and slice |
|
Punctured bladders my delight |
|
Suppurating, shiny flesh |
|
Bloody carcass quite a mess |
|
Steam rising from the ruins of your corpse |
|
The heat in this house is quite inadequate for this pathological cause |
|
Maggots I dislike |
|
They impose upon my fun |
|
My merrymaking ruined |
|
By these rancid little worms |
|
Globs of bodily juices drop and splat upon the floor |
|
As I drag your festering corpse, oozing sticky strings of gore |
|
Your shoulder bones protruding, cracking as they hit the wall |
|
Petrol sure in handy when you tire of it all |
|
Rotting muscles slipping off, congealing lumpy mass |
|
Blistering and frying as your cadaver turn to ash |
|
Scooping up remains |
|
Pouring into tins and jugs |
|
Feeling clean and pure of mind |
|
I'm a genius, not obnoxious... |
