Skulls crush beneath my tires,
As each adversary expires,
Who's the real enemy?
Those who kill mercilessly? Or those who kill for money?
Those who are willing,
To make sure they get the most out of every killing.
As my vehicle crushes you, everywhere, guts squirt...
Aww, did that hurt?
Listen, you've caught me in a good mood, I think I'll let you live...a few extra seconds!
Killing sure has it's merits!
I can no longer tell the difference between me and those bandits...
But is there really anything wrong with that?
Using my sniper rifle's continual acid damage, until you're hors de combat?
The only thing I wish more,
Is if there could be much torture before,
I end you,
And profit off of you.
You see, in these fictional worlds, I seem to have this perverse desire,
For the most destruction, torture, murder, horror, and chaos, dire.
Bandits, Psychos, Skags, Spiderants, Rakks,
Your brains turn into my knick-knacks.
Butcherly, I am red in tooth and claw,
I lay down the law!
I sadistically make money from all,
Picking up as many guns as I can, to sell,
I wonder if this is illegal? Oh, well!
Allways full on ammunition,
Ready for the opposition,
Bring me more decomposition!
The shops must surely hate me,
I bring them more, instead of letting them sell to me,
And don't even get me started on the Catch-a-Ride,
It's not my fault, your vehicle can't withstand exploding barrels or dynamite!