See You Next Tuesday - The Acacia Strain

I said run

And you won’t be able to see me

Because you’ll be bleeding from the eyes

The thought of your genitals makes me sick

And I bet you could fit five cocks up that ass

Why don’t you just strap a mattress to your back

These are the last days of the rest of your life

Next time I want a better excuse

Dropped like a bad habit

I wash my hands of you all

My slate is clean

And I’ll be smiling all the way to the bank

Face down

Ass up

I want to destroy something beautiful

By the end I want everyone dead

By the end I’m going to be the only one standing

Not even your children are safe