The Pick-Axe Murders
You thought it was over, it's not overI came back, I brought my axe
In the shadows, alone in the darkYoung victims I stalk
You thought it was over, it's not overI came back
From the graveTo mutilate
Axed in the backPick through the neckDead like the rest
Molested and leftLimbs split in halfI ruptured their fleshPuncture woundsTo the head
Bone fragments clot to the hatchetKnee-deep in the blood of the deadCranial separationSex with her severed head
Rotten walking deadHunting living victims