So your man up and left you,
now your always complaining.
No man is worth losing it over.
I can go get you a ******,
you want some midol honey?
You want somebody to come
rub on your tummy?
No, you wan't to spit!
Stop complaining bout your pain,
and start singing bout your pain.
You need to get out and stretch
let the razor do its thing
let the blood flow start
cut some suckers sixty ways.
You got a razor and your rage
take back the stage,
let your hate out the cage,
It doesn't matter if they don't engage.
Don't quit, spit, make art from your pain.
Its bout purging the bad feelings,
so you can get on with your life again,
you done enough crying for the day
now let the beast loose.
If your screaming
the pain wont last long,
shed some blood honey
till your ***** stops hurting.

I see you wallowing there in your pit of sin,
saying prayers to make things the way they had been.
You ******* joker, look around, what has changed?
You're the only ******* not playing the game.
I've only been here for a couple of days, and I read your ****
Fool, get back in the game. And stop complaining bout gifts.
I'll only tell you once sailor, then I'll go get my knife.
Don't quit ******* or I'll take your life!

Killers don't quit, cause quitters get killed
I'll be cutting fools down, till every grave is filled
Look into my eyes you'll find a nightmare
call the ******* cops, see if I care.
By the time they get here
I'll rip out your ******* hair.
You're afraid to look at me
in my eyes you see despair.
You're afraid of what you'll see
in my thousand yard stare.

Once you pick up bloodshed
you can never put it down,
until your ****** ******* body
is cold and dead in the ground.
I'll be swinging taking shots
at all you ******* clowns,
until every body wishes
that I never came around.

If you ain't a killer get back in your shack,
killers rule the day, always on the attack.
I've got a pocket full of bullets
and a grave that I need filled.
Killers don't quit
because quitters get killed.

I'm the ***** *******
your mother
told you about.
The creeping evil ******
with the boxcutter.

I'm waiting at the station
for the lone cow
separated from the herd
to walk by.

So I can lash out with my boxcutter
and paint the world red.
Nothing makes me smile
like that little exhale of air
that escapes
when the throat is cut.
Nothing feels better
than bathing in the blood
of the so called ******* innocent.

Watch yourself.
My boxcutter and me are lurking.
All we ever do
is lurk, and wait
and cut up cattle.

You aren't careful...
You'll be next!

Its about to get ugly up in here.

I'm talking
Worlds ugliest
Thalidomide baby
contest winner
Ugly.

I'm talking
Michael Jacksons
rotten *** corpse
falling apart
in the coffin
Ugly.

I'm talking
pasty ***
fat and sweaty
old white dude
in a Cambodian brothel
****** little girls
until he runs out of money
Ugly.

Its going to get ugly...

Standby.