Play My Song

We hit the ace, ace and we love giving chase

Wicked clown got more than some pie for your face

With a drip, drip, drip it's blood on the strip

Three disassembled bodies in the trunk of the whip

Hear the saw, saw, saw right below your jaw

You see your own head roll off the table and fall

See the puck, puck, puck flamin arrows in your truck

And one in your lung stuck, you fucked outta luck

R: Play my song, gimme something I can lean on

Watcha tryin to hear, something about murder, I got that

Play my song, gimme something I can lean on

Watcha tryin to hear, something about murder, I got that

Bloody, bloody, bloody

Play my song, bloody, bloody, bloody

Whatcha tryin to hear, bloody, bloody, bloody

Here come the hack, hack, hack knives in your back

Blood down your spine, all in your ass crack

With a swing, swing, swing your throat's whistlin

The three incisions i made are fine as g-strings

It's the pat, pat, pat from behind with a bat

And splatter every crack till your whole head flat

Beat the jab, jab, jab I'll punch you in your flab

Drag you to the butcher shop and chop you into slabs

R:

(murder... death... war...)

Everyone of us gotta have murder and death

To remind ourselves that we still have our breath

Whether it's tasteful of disgraceful

Shit, as long as everybody get's a face full

Someo f us root for the coppers, others root for the killin

But everybody needs they murderous thrillins

Trace it back to when mankind was swinging from a tree

Murder is what we talkin about, and always will be

R: