Give me my next fix,
these white lines my crucifix,
weighing heavily on my soul,
oh wait, I don’t have one,
a void fills the hole.
The bullet draws more life,
but not as beautifully as my serrated knife,
fuck peace, I am the angel of anarchy,
will send lead through you till
identification is impossible for your worthless body.
I ain’t gonna suffer for your sins,
no glory in your hollow wins,
the day of judgement is upon thee,
worthless mortal, kneel and pray
that I decide your fate kindly.