Bloodthirsty for a Retard

With my giant boots
I stand firm and tall
Thumping at every step
Losing my mind
Losing my temper
Desiring to rip out a gut
Of one who stands in my way

With my leather fingerless gloves
With spikes surrounding my wrists
I point my finger at you
Looking downward
Intimidating the living fuck out of you
Say one wrong thing
And your ass is of the grass

My footsteps like the sound of thunder
Stalking your foolish planned escape
From my ferocious wrath
My presence and expression known
Your anxiety on high alert
You’ll get what is coming

No excuses, no negotiates
You can never explain—
I point at you
Like a drawn, loaded pistol—
Back down as my boots shakes the ground
Snapping, latching like a hurricane
You will be scarred
Paranoid for dear life

Fear me, do not defy me—
For I am a shredder
An undertaker—
Bloodthirsty for a retarded weakling