He was the quiet one, always sat alone
Did all his homework, never beaten at home
Not so popular or very well known
Could get away w/ murder & eventually would
The first one was homeless & never missed
The second died slowly, he found his gift
Their screams brought him pleasure, untold bliss
Third took much longer he was enjoying this.
Chorus:
Killing for pleasure, killing for fun
Watch them bleed, see the blood run
Trapped in his nightmare, w/ nowhere to go
This world's god, he'll make it so
There is no escaping when on the prowl
Worse than a bloodhound, he'll sniff you out
Once he's found you, you'll pray for death
Cold-blooded murder is all you can expect.
Choosing all victims, @ random
There's no pattern to be found
Some are buried while others are not
Most are found long after they rot
Never taken from the same place twice
Toys w/ them like a cat does mice
They're never left for dead
Cos he knows they're not alive.
He has no desire to be caught
The pleasure he gains can't be bought
Takes no trophies from his victims
Leaves behind no wanton clues
His pride is in knowing, what he's done
Adulation of the masses troubles him none
He'll never make the front-page news
Never become famous, not here to amuse.
Flavour free insanity
Got too many scoops as a child
He feeds off of your fear &
Laughs as you scream, twist, shout
Pain is pleasure & death ecstasy
He lives for the moment that you die
As you breathe your last breath
He breathes in & tastes your life.
Killing for his warped satisfaction
Your terror spurns him into action
The more you struggle the slower you die
Hacked to pieces hung to dry
One fine day he'll eventually stop
When the thrill to kill is gone
But until that doubtful day
You'd better watch your back.