In the kitchen 
With a screaming triple amputee...  [bad word] depends solely 
On my needs... 
Said amputee's stumps 
Are my way of saying... "Thank you 
Just for being you." 
Its fear tastes better than its limbs.

Terror of morality 
I draw from the slowly dying damned 
Monsters live behind my eyes; 
I let them out and people die. 
And all the grave worms  [bad word] for their piece of meat? 
I give them dead things.. 
The wretched living are mine alone

Fright mounts with the body count 
To which anthropomancy predicts a decline
In all of God's creation, 
Can there be a lifestyle that's better than this?

I mark my territory 
With their blood and excritement 
And adipocere...
I can find my way in the dark; 
My fulfilment is habitually necromanic 
And anal abusive.. 
Seen through the eyes of a mortician

They've "caught" me, as they call it; 
My teeth and my [bad word] have betrayed me..
Nevermore! 
Tests to gauge my rationale, 
The likes of which these feeble minds have 
Never seen.

Rorschach blotters, 
My responses to which inspire fear... 
From my lizard side, 
The amoral alien speaks; 
"These aren't butterflies, I see a face I'd like to burn."

Obfuscation 
Of the authorities with lies, 
And my natur 
Alability to charm and be me, 
Or whoever they want; 
I've known all minds by divine right.