Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why do I love blood above all?
The bloodmobile shall make a call
And you, you piece of shit, will drain and fall.
Laughing as I find the vein,
I feel pleasure, they feel pain.
Ignore their cries (they're all the same).
The bloodmobile forgets their fucking names.
Clots and scabs stand in my way.
Get past the pus, it's red I crave.
I drink blood; I'm not ashamed.
Donate all your blood and slit your wrist so I can drink.
What could be more beautiful than open wound?
My refrigerator is a blood bank.
The kitchen is my operating room.
So many liters of muddy red, so little time.
My fellow humans gave their blood,
And now it's mine... in the Bloodbank.
I'm the banker of your blood. Your skin is my way.
I'm the banker of your blood, you fucking slave.
Donate... Bloodbank.
I dream in shades of red. I bathe in pancreatic slime.
Soon it will be your time, time to donate and die.
Give. My voracious appetite.
Parked in front of school,
The bloodmobile accepts all donations.
Parked in my garage,
I count out portions of next week's dinner.
Recycled carnage. Last saturday
A poor man came to give his blood for money,
But how can I put a price on such a delicacy?

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