| As a young man I found out that if you hurt somebody
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| They’ll leave you alone, good guys do finish last
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| Am I crazy? |
| Am I insane?
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| Hoodoo is my religion I believe in superstition
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| Come against me and I turn instantly to mortician
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| You need some more convincing? |
| Killer like the son of sam
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| Gruesome with my old depiction twist you like I’m outer realm
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| Homicidle idle survival of the wickedest
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| Got my rival suicidal from how I kick this shit
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| Watch me flick the bic I’m about to light the gas
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| Then I’mma cut your hand off and use that bitch to wipe my ass
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| I’m vicious, my heart has no malice
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| Enter militias and my trigger finger is so careless
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| From killin' bastards now all I do is swing the hatchet
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| All hail to prime minister definition of sinister
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| Detrimental to industry, breaking bad with my chemistry
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| Trying go out and infamy, fuck with me, feel my energy
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| Wicked poetic symphony this is how killers meant to be
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| Boondox and Big Hoodoo no remorse and no symphaty
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| No sympathy, no remorse, cold blooded
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| Sick with it, this how we do
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| No soul, my hearts cold (everybody knows we)
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| Sick with it, this how we do
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| Am I crazy? |
| Sick with it, this how we do
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| Am I insane? |
| Sick with it, this how we do
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| The pain is constant and sharp
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| And this confession? |
| It means nothing
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| The ring around sinking, coming clean like it used to
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| Permament reminder that I got couple screws loose
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| Same with the bathub, same stained hands
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| Drops on the counter top of insane man
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| Thoughts of the flashback, remembering the first time
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| That I realized I was evil of the worst kind
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| Covered toe to head in somebody else’s life
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| And laughing when I lost it, lickin plasma from a knife
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| Staring at the wind, chippin' down from a slow drip
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| Lips on the water fountain, startin' with a slow sip
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| And end it with the crazy mixed pleasure with your shame
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| A little bit of pain from the liquid that I drain
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| Why did I do it? |
| Was it worth the affliction
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| And why did I let to it to become my addiction
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| The body in my conscious bearing out in the mud
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| A blood thristy killer with a real thrist for blood
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| There is no me, only an entity
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| Something illusory |