I stand on a corner watching my prey
a primortal instinct is the raeson I sley
Bullets and guns so much fit my style
I'll do my killing with knives for awhile
I get so much pleasure making my kill
that I make "mark" with peices of dill
They got a name for people like me
It has something to do with insanity
The guns go off and everyone's dead
I start filling my victims up full of lead
stalking around with gun ion my trench
leaving my victims with an unholy stench
For now I'll continue making my kills
on the whole planet, there's no greater of thrills
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