Mistweaver

Mistweaver
I put the 9mm glock to your head
and gently squeese the trigger
blowing out your brains
on the wall in all kind of crazy figures
So what are you gonna do now
you piece of shit
how stupid can a man be
you've should have known better

Weaving my world
from the cord of your soul
as I slowly f***
the bullet exit hole
through the funeral mist
I drag you to my temple
dead yet so alive
living in my dreams
Nothing brings me greater joy
than the memory of when I
wiped that smile from your lips
the look of horror in your eyes
as I pulled out a gun
and pointed it at your face