---

My hand that pulled the trigger,

And killed your sons and daughters,

Is now masturbating on their memory,

All work and no play makes Macabre a dull boy.

We, soldiers of Death, are your sons

We are your husbands and your friends

We are everywhere, and there will be more

Of your children dead tomorrow.

I was born with Death in my veins

I am a murderer, I am a terrorist

I am beyond your experience

Death is my ultimate goal.