Ill rip out your eyeballs as ornaments for my ears,
and inflict on you the nightmares that you dished out for years.
You will live in my dungeon and feed on dry bread
while I feast at a table close to your head.
And for every birthday I'll cut off one finger
and leave it to rot so the smell of it lingers.

You will keep your tongue for the names you'll recite
of the ones that you hurt and treated with spite.
And the day that the terror expires your life
I'll hang you on a lamp pole on the highway in full sight.
And you will be remembered as a pathetic soul
who picked on gentle women you tried to control.

And justice will rise like a bright morning sun,
A coward is dead and his abusing is done.