| 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 |