My fists two bullets,   Just ripping through your face   Is that your cheekbone exploding   Like a pane of glass   Porcelain under my fist,   Cutting through my knuckles   Like razors   I really should have killed you,   But I think I'll pass      Like pouring salt on a slug   It's the pain,   Not the fact that you'll die   You are nothing but a bug   That I'm torturing slowly   Like pouring salt on a slug   I am truth and you are a liar   Your grave has already been dug   Don't take it so poorly      Isn't it ironic how you want to   Scream but you can't   I've got your tongue in my hand   And still you're able to taste your   Own blood filling your lungs.   Guess your body has   Become a betrayal.   Well I'm just a humble cleaner,   And you, my friend, you're waste      Like pouring salt on a slug   It's the pain,   Not the fact that you'll die   You are nothing but a bug   That I'm torturing slowly   Like pouring salt on a slug   I am truth and you are a liar   Your grave has already been dug   Don't take it so poorly