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Peeling off skin for a fucking living,
Placing your skulls on my bedposts,
Designer dress made from human flesh,
And a cold bloody mask to match it

Furniture made of skin,
Not using it would be a sin,
Human cunt in a box,
This tortures not-gonna-stop,

Nipple-studded belt,
Measured for my victim,
Screaming isn't gonna help
Bodybags by my side,
Chainsaw never leaves my sight,
Nowhere left for you to hide.

I adore the way you're face fits mine, like it was destined to be,
Using your skull as a cereal bowl,
Is the way I fucking role.

Peeling off skin for a fucking living,
Placing your skulls on my bedposts,
Designer dress made from human flesh,
And a cold bloody mask to match it.

Dragging your body into the basement,
To reveal a pile of rotting flesh,
A pyramid of bodies take up half the storage,
And your just adding to my collection.

Wearing your skin as a suit,
Makes me feel so colossol,
The gift I get from real life death,
Is what bounds me to my chainsaw.

As the malodour leaks out the front door,
It's a race against time before I get found.
Until I get found

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