You’re too weird to be alive,
I’m coming to your house with a shovel and bag of lye,
I know where you hide the spare key.

I sneak in your room while you gently sleep,
bash your face a thousand times,
drag your body deep into the woods.

The woods are quiet,
I dig a hole six feet deep,
and two feet wide.

Innocent blood spills onto soil,
God is dead,
the woods are alive.

Something once thought slumbering,
is now awake,
there is nowhere to hide.

The darkness is filled with glowing eyes,
they move in on me ever so slowly,
a boisterous growl fills my ears.

The beast without a shape opens its mouth,
I stare into the abyss that is its maw,
then I realize I’m done for good.