See You Next Tuesday

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