Connoisseur's Of Death

My thoughts control me.

i can't hold back any longer,

i must commit these acts,

my fantasies compel me,

watching,

stalking,

waiting,

planning this perfect crime.

i have studied your surroundings for months now.

i know exactly when to make my move, and exactly how i'm going to make my move.

a perfect murder to me is all about strategy,

so unaware as i stalk flawlessly,

repeatedly in my dreams i have pulled this job.

in front of the mirror as you prepare for sleep,

this is when i sneak behind and put the barrel of the shotgun to your head,

i like it when you see my face.

a blow to the skull, i make sure your still alive.

i only kill quick when necessary, but this is a score i must settle.

now is when my fantasies come, so i reach for my blade

inflicting this mutilation, slashing your face, stomping your body,

i love to see you in such pain, for this pain is my extasy.

suck the barrel, and look at me in the eye,

do you think i really give a fuck about what i'm going to do?

decapitated by 12 gauge slugs, i can't even recognize half your body anymore.

your family will probably tell the authorities i'm a suspect,

so i eliminated them before i eliminated you,

dragging you to the basement, i place you with the rest,

nude, in perverted positions with your loved ones.

fiendishly i masturbate to the scene i have created,

the investigators are going to be shocked.

my payoff, my crime gets televised,

overwhelmed with laughter as i realize,

they'll never catch me