Murmur - whisper to me   Slithering fantasies of cleaning bones, lucid dreams   Yearning to become real   The luscious slitting of throats, what fantasy?      These fictions so corporal so obtuse   Restricting me, frustrating me   The fictions so morbid seem foretold   Digging in the psyche      No theory, no medication, no session   Can shed light upon the monster I am told to become   No theory, no medication, obsession   The smell of blood, the soothing of the pain mine   A medical condition? No, merely purpose   Decrepit wits in a mind mine      These fictions so corporal so obtuse   Restricting me, frustrating me   The fictions so morbid seem foretold   Release the rage in me      Set in motion the first kill   Adrenaline, rushing me   The fictions so morbid fulfilled   Release the real in me      Swing the axe, hang the rope   The tales of my coming painted in a spree of gore   Do say your prayers, they shall be answered   By the cutting of blades as your insides are drained      No longer murmurs - in thy decrepit wits   A spree of murder - unleash my insanity   Meticulous plan, the fruition of years of mental disorder   A spree of terror, the canvas of decay   Left behind for them to find, in perspicuity      Murmurs - whisper to me   Slithering fantasies of cleaning bones, lucid dreams   Yearning to become real   The luscious slitting of throats, what fantasy?