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Hunting of the Evil and downtrodden
`~,,~`
Tis true;
Beauty is inside the eye of the beholder
Behold woman,
For I am sick,
Because I like the sound of people suffering
It turns me on
The hunting of the evil and down trodden,
To hunt them
To hurt the naughty and the wicked,
This time of year, only once a year,
Such a pity;
To hear their cries and to hear their lament
Some of my favorite Christmas memories involve this
I love to see them tied up to a pole, against a wall
and being tortured
The sound of the whip,
Blood on the floor and worn in the hair, like a crown,
Makes me want to grab my pliers and chains,
And see what joyously wondrous sounds I can make them make
Ooo; How I want to fuck them all
Fuck em all to hell,
The Holy Fukin shit out of them,
and make them suffer
My need is such,
I turn into something I cannot conceal,
No,
I must be something no ordinary man can conceive,
I am not sure if it is I that is still around,
Or my shadow of destiny that come around;
```~~~…~~~```
In a secret room
My own room
that I built
just to satisfy me and slick my awful lust
I cum just thinking about it,
Playing the game,
My favorite Christmas memory
My mouth waters
First time I went all the way
How can I forget
Platters was playing on the radio, the Great Pretender
My favorite Platters song
And I lived my favorite fantasy,
Murder, torture, kill,
and Drag me to Hell,
And I sent that soul to hell, bound, sacrificed and gagged
Bleeding all over from every hole,
And pierced
In secret meeting;
```~~~… …~~~```
I love it, to hear them suffer
Cause that shit is true
They aint faking it
No, they are living it
They are taking it, every damn moment of it
and are involuntarily reacting to it
They feel it, see it, smell it, taste it,
They are in my world
And here, I rule with an iron fist
God, it turns me on so
In heat and rain,
Alone with friends
It matters little
I have the strength
Strength to make my fantasy of want take its course
```~~~… … …~~~```
Tis true;
Beauty is inside the eye of the beholder
Behold woman,
For I am sick,
Because I like the sound of people suffering
It turns me on
The hunting of the evil and down trodden,
To hunt them
To hurt the naughty and the wicked,
This time of year, only once a year,
Such a pity;
To hear their cries and to hear their lament
Some of my favorite Christmas memories involve this
I love to see them tied up to a pole, against a wall
and being tortured
The sound of the whip,
Blood on the floor and worn in the hair, like a crown,
Makes me want to grab my pliers and chains,
And see what joyously wondrous sounds I can make them make
Ooo; How I want to fuck them all
Fuck em all to hell,
The Holy Fukin shit out of them,
and make them suffer
My need is such,
I turn into something I cannot conceal,
No,
I must be something no ordinary man can conceive,
I am not sure if it is I that is still around,
Or my shadow of destiny that come around;
```~~~…~~~```
In a secret room
My own room
that I built
just to satisfy me and slick my awful lust
I cum just thinking about it,
Playing the game,
My favorite Christmas memory
My mouth waters
First time I went all the way
How can I forget
Platters was playing on the radio, the Great Pretender
My favorite Platters song
And I lived my favorite fantasy,
Murder, torture, kill,
and Drag me to Hell,
And I sent that soul to hell, bound, sacrificed and gagged
Bleeding all over from every hole,
And pierced
In secret meeting;
```~~~… …~~~```
I love it, to hear them suffer
Cause that shit is true
They aint faking it
No, they are living it
They are taking it, every damn moment of it
and are involuntarily reacting to it
They feel it, see it, smell it, taste it,
They are in my world
And here, I rule with an iron fist
God, it turns me on so
In heat and rain,
Alone with friends
It matters little
I have the strength
Strength to make my fantasy of want take its course
```~~~… … …~~~```
Published 17th Dec 2015
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