Today, is my last day, and it's gonna be yours tooThe shrapnel from my pipe bombs is gonna run through youSo strap on your weapons and follow what I doScream while your dying at the hands of my crewGrab the gun and yell supriseThe Look of death in your eyesWhat the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you have to cry?Standing at the bus stop with that glimmer in your eyeEight years old, nine years old, I don't really carePull up the plaid skirt to reveal no pubic hairLet's butcher the bodies that gather up the fliesI'll cum in your woman as she watches you dieIf I was you, I'd commit suicide. Go run and hideThe blood on my hands, is what I live forRemember my name
