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He was the quiet one, always sat alone

Did all his homework, never beaten at home

Not so popular or very well known

Could get away w/ murder & eventually would

The first one was homeless & never missed

The second died slowly, he found his gift

Their screams brought him pleasure, untold bliss

Third took much longer he was enjoying this.

Chorus:

Killing for pleasure, killing for fun

Watch them bleed, see the blood run

Trapped in his nightmare, w/ nowhere to go

This world's god, he'll make it so

There is no escaping when on the prowl

Worse than a bloodhound, he'll sniff you out

Once he's found you, you'll pray for death

Cold-blooded murder is all you can expect.

Choosing all victims, @ random

There's no pattern to be found

Some are buried while others are not

Most are found long after they rot

Never taken from the same place twice

Toys w/ them like a cat does mice

They're never left for dead

Cos he knows they're not alive.

He has no desire to be caught

The pleasure he gains can't be bought

Takes no trophies from his victims

Leaves behind no wanton clues

His pride is in knowing, what he's done

Adulation of the masses troubles him none

He'll never make the front-page news

Never become famous, not here to amuse.

Flavour free insanity

Got too many scoops as a child

He feeds off of your fear &

Laughs as you scream, twist, shout

Pain is pleasure & death ecstasy

He lives for the moment that you die

As you breathe your last breath

He breathes in & tastes your life.

Killing for his warped satisfaction

Your terror spurns him into action

The more you struggle the slower you die

Hacked to pieces hung to dry

One fine day he'll eventually stop

When the thrill to kill is gone

But until that doubtful day

You'd better watch your back.