| I’m coming out from inside the walls like asbestos
|
| A ghost disappearing and reappearing when least most expected
|
| I yank kids on there own bloods when the monster
|
| I’m a monster, responsible for missing camp counsellors
|
| I’m analyzing bio-rhythms, leaving my victims with incisions
|
| My sensory sees catastrophic visions
|
| Over the image of Jehovah I burn sulphur
|
| In retrospect I infect your innards just like an ulcer
|
| Then I twist facial features like Rocky Dennis, when I menace
|
| It’s horrendous, my bloody appetite’s tremendous
|
| Enormous, watch the metamorphosis, stickin' snitches through orifices
|
| Remorseless are my thoughts, when I cut your corpse
|
| I dabble in the arts that are forbidden
|
| Leaving carcasses after carcass, maggots within regardless
|
| I’m a psychopathologist, pathologically I exist
|
| Infamous, but with a twist
|
| Run for your life
|
| Reports provided by department of forensics
|
| Reveal nothing reminiscent murder on these premises
|
| The only evidence being the body
|
| No fingerprints or murder weapons located
|
| But still they follow me
|
| Constantly I’m under surveillance
|
| Numerous, federal agencies provide the whole police their interference
|
| So now there’s all types of pigs bleeding hemoglobin
|
| Left in my place and frozen solid from head to their toes and
|
| Pieces of people I take and then I reanimate
|
| Beyond the gates, I can see the bloody face of Sharon Tate
|
| I make you submit when I dominate
|
| Nothing you could ever do can restrain my campaign of hate
|
| I measure my pleasure by the amount of pain
|
| I inflict during your torture, officer I make you suffer
|
| So listen
|
| I’m giving you five minutes to flee
|
| Here’s a butcher knife
|
| Motherfucker, run for your life!
|
| I vaccinate sockets with lip bloods, like if I was to flip once
|
| I snag a body bag them dirty fucking cunts
|
| Shooting chemicals directly into my jugular — look around
|
| Shits getting uglier and uglier
|
| Spinning' within my hyperbaric chamber
|
| Nothing short of a bloody rusty razor
|
| Fingerprinting could stop my behaviour
|
| Generally, and federally
|
| Etcetera, etcetera, shooting Storm Troopers like dead era
|
| I emphasize like emphysema
|
| Every word I speak creeps up in your bloodstream like Leukemia
|
| I instigate mutilation
|
| Under federal investigation escaping police stations
|
| Taking all types of narcotics made to enhance my optics
|
| Unlocking consciousness when I pop acid trips
|
| And want to kill the pigs (here piggy piggy, here piggy piggy)
|
| Unlocking consciousness to let the razor rip open my wrist |