Kill
Dead World
The Machine
Kill
He's just a face in the crowd,
a nondescript man,
a dim witted mouthful of lies.
Football on the TV,
beer in the hand,
the extend of his rational depth.
He's a god fearing man,
a while beating fuck,
a vacuous flag waving fool.
Rip out his heart,
feed him his dick,
gut him like a hamstrung deer.
Kill,
kill that man...