Time to play.... Tear at your bindings try to escape Muffled screams through the loops of duct tape Chorus What I live for. Is what you’ll die for. What I live for. Is what you’ll die for. (The) Rancid funk of bowels letting go Time to play, to let blood flow A blade so keen like you’ve never seen Razor sharp with a polished gleam Chorus I’ll make an incision with surgical precision Connective tissue will be no issue A heavy arterial spray erupts from the neck, as the knife pulls away Driving the blade back home Face open wide, exposed teeth and bone I’ll make an incision with surgical precision Connective tissue will be no issue Stick it in and twist Cracking ribs with a flick of my wrist Driving the blade back home From a punctured lung bubbles crimson foam On my tongue, a coppery taste Mouthing my blade with no disgrace Tongue and lips are slit Our fluids merge, this is it Power-fucked with my knife An abrupt end to your miserable life Remains in bags with plastic ties Dumped like trash, food for flies Food for flies!!!