The tombers

Maybe i'm mad

The tombers
Walking and thinking who is my victim
This beautiful girls or her sweety granny
Whit morbid sikness i will prepare yuor capture
And i will take you into my cellar
To dismember and taste you
A good human steak and a blood shake
Tripe brain cheese an distilled of pussy liquid
Maybe i'm mad
Into my mind there are only bad things
A perversed mix of pain pain and joy
I like see the people suffer
Vision of death and morder

I don't know what normal people think
I would like transfix myself
I want put my hand around your neck
And catch yours soul

Ooohhh my mind isn't sick
I want put my hand around your neck
Maybe i'm mad...
Maybe i'm mad....

Giveme your soul flesh.....blood....brain...bones

Walking and seeking for a new victim
Now i want only some children
It's all in my mind obscurity and pain
But i like kill and rape...kill and rape the new victim
Maybe i'm mad.....

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