Meant to die, but only to die alone,
Since God doesn’t reward traitors,
Fools, liars, or heathens like I am.
Hope is for people that are prone,
To become something a lot greater,
Than a rotting soul, the Son of Sam.
This is for you, in spite of you, mom,
Your choice still haunts me everyday,
I’ve got no love for the female race.
How could you give up your only son,
And go about your life just the same,
Before ever looking him in the face?
I live in my own little fantasy world,
Without a perception of leadership,
Except for these voices in my head,
That feed on the blood of the girls.
I am not really crazy, I am a sadist,
With no remorse for the blood shed.
I am Mister Monster, I will be back,
To make my ailing father Sam proud,
As I hunt with a forty-four handgun.
It is in my strongest conviction that,
My victims will rise from the ground,
And I will then be a worthy husband.
I am not the killer, I only hold a gun,
And my fires make me feel like God,
Do not judge me, this isn’t my fault.
Mother should have had her abortion,
So maybe then, Satan would have not,
Captured me and used me as his pawn.
I beg you to kill me if you catch me,
It’ll be the best thing for you and I,
Since I will never think clearly again.
Kill me quickly so you may release,
The hounds of the devil in my mind,
And you can put my torture to an end.