Tis' the season of love and lust,
But for this reason death is a must.
You partied, you danced.
Quick to forget those who were now in your past.
Beneath the surface we were calmly unaware
Death would soon claim our names.
The scent of methane lingers in the air,
Now igniting my disgust
Buried now in the darkest grave.
Somehow I am surfaced, somehow I am saved.
Tortured now by thoughts of love, I rise to my feet,
In uniform I stand.
This mask will show no emotion in a time of lust.
This axe will carve, cut and crush.
One by one I claim their lives,
Butchering their hearts as a trophy of my scars.
You shall know suffering. you will all feel this pain.
Never again
Will you dance or parade. I have returned.