It's bedtime at the old woman's manor.
A good night rest is what she lusts for.
The sound of broken glass, came from down below.
They're trying to escape through the window.

She's walking down the stairs.
Entered the basement.
They ran off but they left their faggot friend.
She calls me on the phone.
Tells me to get here fast.
No need of navigation, I know the address.

Pain sounds from behind the cellar door,
Break his knees to the wrong side so he will kiss the floor.
All alone at the wrong place and at the wrong time.
Don't you worry faggot boy you will be just fine.

You will enjoy the things that will happen to you.
This big toy right here is brand new.
Be honoured you will be the first who can play with it.

And after that you will never be able to sit.
Pain sounds from behind the cellar door,
The cock of the lord in his ass is what he adores.
God's cock isn't here so instead of that,
We fill up your ass with a spiked baseball bat.

Turn the bat like spinning a cotton candy.
Twist his guts around it what a bloody mess.
Feels like I'm at the funfair or carnival.
Lets have a party I suggest.

Pain sounds from behind the cellar door.
Chains around his arms and legs, rip him in four.
Body parts separated from his torso.
He cries out in pain but we want to give him more so.

I spooned his eyeballs out.
Now he doesn't look so proud.
He will bleed to death.
Because of the fun we've had.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.