Connoisseurs 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.