Into the bush, I'm felling [bad word] taste for flesh, To drink the blood that's fresh
Dawn brings the sun its time to have some fun
unsheathe my knife, ready to take a life

Exit wounds

The blade punctures through your weak skin [bad word] steaming, smeared on my chin
Behold the flesh it makes an awful mess
The wounds have dried now I will take your hide
Remove the head a trophy of the dead
Not clear to see, its an human taxidermy

Exit wounds