if my sword can only talk, it slashes the hell out of you,
if my gun can only walk, you'd be dead by now.
if looks can ****, you are in your deathbed by now,
oh, how I love to romanticize the feeling of thinking about you. in the back of my mind, I already stabbed you in the back or i already established my plan of killing you.
fatality owns you, brutality is in my soul, it owns me too.