Murmur - whisper to me
Slithering fantasies of cleaning bones, lucid dreams
Yearning to [bad word] real
The luscious slitting of throats, what fantasy?

These fictions so corporal so obtuse
Restricting me, [bad word] me
The fictions so morbid seem foretold
Digging in the psyche

No theory, no medication, no session
Can shed light upon the monster I am told to [bad word] No theory, no medication, obsession
The smell of blood, the soothing of the pain mine
medical condition? No, merely purpose
Decrepit wits in a mind mine

These fictions so corporal so obtuse
Restricting me, [bad word] me
The fictions so morbid seem foretold
Release the rage in me

Set in motion the first kill [bad word] me
The fictions so morbid fulfilled
Release the real in me

Swing the axe, hang the rope
The tales of [bad word] painted in a spree of gore
Do say your prayers, they shall be answered
By the cutting of blades as your insides are drained

No longer murmurs - in thy decrepit wits
spree of murder - unleash my insanity
Meticulous plan, the [bad word] of years of mental disorder
spree of terror, the canvas of decay
Left behind for them to find, in perspicuity

Murmurs - whisper to me
Slithering fantasies of cleaning bones, lucid dreams
Yearning to [bad word] real
The luscious slitting of throats, what fantasy?