Mistweaver

I put the 9mm glock to your head and gently squeese the trigger blowing out your f**king brains on the wall in all kind of crazy figures So what are you gonna do now you piece of shit you're such a f**king shit how f**king stupid can a man be you've should have known better Weaving my world from the cord of your soul as I slowly f**k the bullet exit hole through the funeral mist I drag you to my temple dead yet so alive living in my dreams Nothing brings me greater joy than the memory of when I wiped that smile from your lips the look of horror in your eyes as I pulled out a gun and pointed it at your f**king face