What have you done to me,
a murderer is fun to be?
Will you use that gun you see,
put that bullet right through me?
Maybe a pistol isn't right for you,
maybe a knife with fight for few,
to see the crimson bright gore through,
you have ruined the white score new,
the anguish is obvious at the sight for you.
But pleasure meant so much more,
than the gentle touch of a *****.
That's what made you think,
it makes me shrink,
makes me drink,
I'm at the brink,
I'm the missing link.
Load your gun,
you think you've won.
Grab your knife,
and take my life.
In the end,
its you my friend,
that ceases to wake.