these are the chronicles
a life of sick demented thoughts
of cuttin people up like pork
a monsta behind light skin n blue eyes
and i might just haunt ya at night
ill be outta sight watchin ya life
unfold as dead bodies grow mold
and heads roll down the hallway
a dismembered body comin thru ya doorway
little ghost children hangin from ceilings
singin lullabys, reasons that their mother died
possesed by demons like a crackhead fiendin
scratches on the neck, dents in their head
midgets under ya bed, standin next to you as sleep
ticklin ya feet, its not just the wind from the fan
its the feelings of a little fuck hand
ask me how i sleep at night
i just grab the mic
and let the thoughts come out
say things that make you run out of your house
chased by a mouse wit red eyes
no1 ever dies
they roam around the planet
unseen by the naked eye
watchin you in the shower
for hours and hours
days on end so i just grab the pen
thought i let you know
how it goes, this world is nothin but a hole
full of physcopaths and murderers
and im sure that ya will understand
that i never ran
from my fears standin back not fightin tears
im on some other shit, ill kill ya brotha kid
right in front of you, watch ya motha do
the things i like, and i might let ya die
quickly but i doubt it, wheres ya foot
oh i found it in the bucket
drink the blood throw u oven
mentally sick, i should be in the loony bin
im such a fuckin goony man
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