Are you sure I am not looking past you?
At some twisted little vision
Of a person tied down screaming
From a painful deadly incision
Am I laughing at these wicked thoughts?
My soul is dripping with sin
I have so much anger to give
But where should I begin?
I thought we all had a god given gift
Guess I'm not one of them. Perhaps I'm less
Unless hate is a gift
In which case I've been blessed
'Cause I hate a lot of people
But can't explain my thoughts
And I am laughing
As your body rots
