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The kiss from the buzzsaw left quite an impression, |
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Upon the face of a former lover a pulped red depression, |
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The madness that formed from his childhood abuse, |
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Hated throughout his life now has its use. |
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Embracing the vicious, constantly killing the pain, |
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People must sate the rage that flows in his veins, |
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Dogma of the abused, morality deranged, |
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The need to feel a normal life, the horrid way of pain. |
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Where was the hammer? Hidden in the corner it lay, |
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His father used his belt and boot but his hammer worked the same, |
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It used to hurt the kicks and belt whips across the back, |
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Now his life is one of pain, that's not a normal fact. |
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Out of hurt, anger grew nerves bent will of steel, |
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He was right and they were wrong, loves not his to feel, |
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Father dead but still he suffers, the beatings still occur, |
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He sees his father in everyone, he will make then suffer. |
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Embracing the vicious, humans equal shit, |
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His life ruled by fear and hate, consumed by anger still, |
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Never to know peace or bliss his war on people waged. |
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No pain no gain his life of shame, |
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Infliction, pain addiction |
