A Method Piece in Abject Madness

Title art by Paul Dean. Click image to visit his studio.

Ever hell-bent on the kill
Shit could get scary for real
Something ’bout the way guts spill
My dick it gets stiff on the thrill

Such gestures of less than good will
Got no time for token when there are bones to be broken
“Welcome to a world of inhuman suffering” chills more when softly spoken
Not nearly an open shut case
When I hold a six-inch cutter to your face
Leave a bold impression as I teach a scalding lesson
One you’ll take directly to the grave

Came up in most recent confession
Ten Hail Marys were my penance
Punishment pre-set, life sentence, yet no sign of repentance
And then came divine intervention
Never my intention to destroy a man of cloth
But have to admit it felt the shit as I bled that cunt out like a goth bitch on cycle
Forced a recital of Ave Maria, no minor feat with the tongue hacked clean off
Never have been one to scoff
Thus I duly concealed my cold steel and then backed the fuck off
Ducked back into shadows, eyes no longer quite so narrowed
Went on to bid adieu to the remainder of the flock
They’re far better off now and in some way finer song
Can always play the shepherd, if not

No more inglorious a bastard whence crossed
Long since lost count of the salads that I’ve tossed
Call me real gone, I’ll turn up in lost property
Fall back or attack, either way it’s a lottery
The beast within this one, a fucking monstrosity
Not that this savagery bothers me
Indeed, I have ever embraced tenebrosity
Darkness and I have a clear understanding
Should I chime bereft of virtue, then lightning strike me down right where I’m standing
Like to stalk my prey and have been known for gallivanting
When I fist fuck your kidneys don’t be stressed if I elect to leave my hand in
Make you my flesh puppet
Clip both your wings, then sever those strings

If indeed it isn’t over ’til the fat lady sings
Then just maybe I shall keep this instrumental
Flip that shit, permit an acapella, go one better
As I make this bitter symphony orchestral
Playing the conductor as I work on your reduction
Performance not a factor, it is all in the production
May see fit to break you like a pencil
Jump your bones and grind them into dust just like a rental
Should I strike just the right chord and come over sentimental
Then I’ll string my harpsichord and make more formal introduction

Heaven ain’t missing no angels, you see
Rumor has it they were actually relieved to see the back of me
Sent this sinner packing and not altogether tactfully
Took rapture from my capture as I fell from grace, came face-to-face with catcher
Made great haste to change race and embrace remanufacture
Finally some stature after aeons a Pariah
Little did they know that they were shunning a Messiah
This burning ring of fire transpired to tower in inferno
Reaching higher than the heavens, impaled saints upon the spire
Feel free to call me liar, it’s a lot to take on-board
Not everyday you’re introduced to one straight from the horde
Deplorable I might be, but delightfully deranged and ever since I found my range I’ve been a lot less bored

Ever hell-bent on the kill
Yet ever so politely
Not one for home invasion, not unless you dare invite me
Shit could get scary for real
If my dick begins to stiffen, then have no doubt that it will
But remember, you came here of own freewill
Could it be you get wet for the snuff
Just enough to lubricate the hate and retch it up
Should you be an artist, should be used to getting fucked
So how about you be the one who’s doing all the fucking
Find your voice, rejoice that shit
Be unapologetic, never stressing who condones that shit
Leave a bold impression, never spurning scalding blessings
Then take that shit directly to the grave