Look in my eye-sockets, They are empty for a long time. My body decays And a brain such rotten. But I am not going to die!
My slow steps Will count down term of your life. It is better for you to run, But you instead Sitting on a floor and cry.
I feel, its time to eat. I can smell your fear Don't even think there can be a deal Because I do not talk to meal
I don't need the hatchet I can quite will do it with my hands It is my favourite job To open craniums To such morons as you Therefore We will light up last bud in your life Then I will skin your head. Look, here you are And your body is dead