Mistweaver

I put the 9mm glock to your head

and gently squeese the trigger

blowing out your fucking 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 fucking shit

how fucking stupid can a man be

you've should have known better

Weaving my world

from the cord of your soul

as I slowly fuck

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 fucking face