Killing Spree
A.K..
Every now and then,
I feel this wicked urge,
To hack and slash and murder
And this earth to purge.
Posers, bigots, and Hicks
This world has no need.
To exterminate them all
That is my solemn creed.
Thats all well and good,
But when these few are through,
I'll hoist my axe and blade,
And I'll be coming straight to you.
You can run and try to hide,
But it won't do any good.
For making me look and search,
Your demise will feel so good!
I'll grab you by the throat,
And draw my combat knife.
Laughing and rev'ling in the blood,
I'll slowly take your life.
But my axe is left untouched
I need another mark.
I head down south for anyone left,
I'm feelin' a wicked spark.
I found a redneck Hilly Billy
Who had escaped my wrath.
I followed him back to his home,
And readied for the bloodbath.
The sight of that dumb hick,
I imagine his blood red.
A minute later I stroll away,
My axe sunk in his head.
Now my job is done.
There's no one left to kill.
My next target St. Peter,
Will take a little skill.
I raise my hatchet up,
As I recite my vow.
I swing my hatchet quickly down,
And bury it in my brow.