Nightfall. He exits his house, backpack slung over one shoulder. The night
air is cool as he cautiously walks down the sidewalk. It's a weekend, so
children are still out, catching fireflies, playing flashlight tag. A sneer
slides across his face. How dare they embrace their emotions like that?
Don't they know it's all crap in the end?
The midnight hour approaches
The killing chill takes over him
His victims will not know when he appears
The lust of Death's possession
Will overtake his psycho mind
He won't be happy 'till he smells their fear
Ignoring the children, he makes his way downtown. The clubs and bars are bustling- deep bass techno music fills his ears, and the cool night air is replaced by the odor of beer, cigarettes, and vomit. Staring earnestly down at his booted feet, Johnny calmly walks into the nearest bar; "Jimmy Jiggers". Smoke covers the dank, barely lit bar. He takes a seat at a small table in the furthest, darkest corner, glaring at the people, one thing on his mind: Revenge.
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
Revenge? For what? What did they do? Nothing. They're people. Statistics- assholes. Somehow, all of them had screwed him over, making his rotten life just a little more unbarable. They deserved the torture he would immediatly bestow upon them, all of them. Indulging bastards... their happiness was thick, as was the smoke. He reached into his backpack...
Addicted to the menace
The taste of death that lives within
He loves it when he tastes their final breath
Stalking gives him pleasure
Killing is the final act
He takes no pity with his lust for death
A drunken couple, groping eachother with glazed over expressions of lust, stumbled past Johnny, accidently bumping into his table making the little candle tip over and poor hot wax onto the table. This was enough to trip Johnny's proverbial trigger. He sprang over the table, knocking it over. The candle rolled over to the bar, igniting an alcohol covered rag. Screaming. Running. Psycho man, psycho man with a knife. Grinning, laughing, stabbing...
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
Throwing bottles of alcohol, cracking skulls into the wooden bar. Blood covered the brown tiled floor, and the rag set quite a few victims on flame. They would run, screaming, then suddenly drop to the floor sizzling, skin peeling away from their faces, arms, the smell of burning flesh and hair lingered out into the street making people cover their noses and quickly walk past the tiny bar.
Playing in his twilight zone
He knows that he's the best
Creeping through the streets alone 'till he finds his victim's next
Killing gives him pleasure
Sleeping gives him pain
The only time he's feeling good is when he'd killed and killed again
Panting, covered in the blood of his victims, Johnny lifted his shirt over his mouth and grabbed up his backpack. He rummaged through it, and extracted a small explosive. His eyes smile, and he detonates the device on top of the bar, throwing a few bottles into the growing fire for good measure. He quickly ran out of the bar, knocking over a few rave kids, grinning like a demented Cheshire Cat. The explosive began it's countdown: 5...
When he's killed again
...4...
When he's killed again
...3...
When he's killed again
...2...
When he's killed again
...1...
When he's killed again
The explosion rattles the surrounding buildings. Almost immediatly, police vehicles arrived, and stunned officers stood outside the charred remains of the building, shocked expression on their faces, frantically calling paramedics and firemen, the stench of burning human flesh causing some to vomit. Who did it? Where did they go? Why, they were at the local 24/7, of course. Blissfully slurping Cherry Doom, and merrily skipping home.
When he's killed again... He's the Angel of Death
Angel of Death
He's the Angel of Death
Angel of Death
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man...Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
Once home, Johnny vaulted over his couch and eagerly tuned into the evening news. There it was: the smoldering remains of Jimmy Jiggers. Mission complete. He busied his conscience with telling it that they all deserved it, they were assholes, not a nice bone in their body- who wants somebody like THAT walking the earth? Not him.
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
No regret. Don't repent. It's your job. Never change. A single tear rolled down his check. Time to change. This is wrong... don't want to feel... please... make the feeling stop- OHHH! 'Monty Python's Flying Circus'! WHOO!
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man...Angel of Death
He's a killer
The midnight hour approaches
The killing chill takes over him
His victims will not know when he appears
The lust of Death's possession
Will overtake his psycho mind
He won't be happy 'till he smells their fear
Ignoring the children, he makes his way downtown. The clubs and bars are bustling- deep bass techno music fills his ears, and the cool night air is replaced by the odor of beer, cigarettes, and vomit. Staring earnestly down at his booted feet, Johnny calmly walks into the nearest bar; "Jimmy Jiggers". Smoke covers the dank, barely lit bar. He takes a seat at a small table in the furthest, darkest corner, glaring at the people, one thing on his mind: Revenge.
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
Revenge? For what? What did they do? Nothing. They're people. Statistics- assholes. Somehow, all of them had screwed him over, making his rotten life just a little more unbarable. They deserved the torture he would immediatly bestow upon them, all of them. Indulging bastards... their happiness was thick, as was the smoke. He reached into his backpack...
Addicted to the menace
The taste of death that lives within
He loves it when he tastes their final breath
Stalking gives him pleasure
Killing is the final act
He takes no pity with his lust for death
A drunken couple, groping eachother with glazed over expressions of lust, stumbled past Johnny, accidently bumping into his table making the little candle tip over and poor hot wax onto the table. This was enough to trip Johnny's proverbial trigger. He sprang over the table, knocking it over. The candle rolled over to the bar, igniting an alcohol covered rag. Screaming. Running. Psycho man, psycho man with a knife. Grinning, laughing, stabbing...
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
Throwing bottles of alcohol, cracking skulls into the wooden bar. Blood covered the brown tiled floor, and the rag set quite a few victims on flame. They would run, screaming, then suddenly drop to the floor sizzling, skin peeling away from their faces, arms, the smell of burning flesh and hair lingered out into the street making people cover their noses and quickly walk past the tiny bar.
Playing in his twilight zone
He knows that he's the best
Creeping through the streets alone 'till he finds his victim's next
Killing gives him pleasure
Sleeping gives him pain
The only time he's feeling good is when he'd killed and killed again
Panting, covered in the blood of his victims, Johnny lifted his shirt over his mouth and grabbed up his backpack. He rummaged through it, and extracted a small explosive. His eyes smile, and he detonates the device on top of the bar, throwing a few bottles into the growing fire for good measure. He quickly ran out of the bar, knocking over a few rave kids, grinning like a demented Cheshire Cat. The explosive began it's countdown: 5...
When he's killed again
...4...
When he's killed again
...3...
When he's killed again
...2...
When he's killed again
...1...
When he's killed again
The explosion rattles the surrounding buildings. Almost immediatly, police vehicles arrived, and stunned officers stood outside the charred remains of the building, shocked expression on their faces, frantically calling paramedics and firemen, the stench of burning human flesh causing some to vomit. Who did it? Where did they go? Why, they were at the local 24/7, of course. Blissfully slurping Cherry Doom, and merrily skipping home.
When he's killed again... He's the Angel of Death
Angel of Death
He's the Angel of Death
Angel of Death
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man...Angel of Death
Looking for a victim wherever he can
Once home, Johnny vaulted over his couch and eagerly tuned into the evening news. There it was: the smoldering remains of Jimmy Jiggers. Mission complete. He busied his conscience with telling it that they all deserved it, they were assholes, not a nice bone in their body- who wants somebody like THAT walking the earth? Not him.
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
He's a killer
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man... Angel of Death
No regret. Don't repent. It's your job. Never change. A single tear rolled down his check. Time to change. This is wrong... don't want to feel... please... make the feeling stop- OHHH! 'Monty Python's Flying Circus'! WHOO!
Looking for a victim wherever he can
He's the Angel of Death
Psycho Man, Psycho Man...Angel of Death
He's a killer