Food For Thought

Food for thought
Made of lead
My onslaught
At full speed
I’m a good man giving work to the pastor
Your funeral director’s now a true puzzlemaster
The song in mourners ears is called november rain
Same song in my ears when my bullet wrecked your brain
Now you’ve really got some time on your own
Now you’ve really got some time all alone
Now you’ve got some maggots feasting on your flesh
My ammo turned your cranium into ash
My hunt is done
This was your end run
You’re overthrown
I wrecked your collar bone
„it’s raining entrails“ said the weather forecaster
Your brain just blew up you’ve never been any faster
Talking to the cops you’ll hear a nine unlock
Followed by a popp now your fucking jaw drops
Your dreams go with your lifejuice assassinated
Your body and your mind from now on unrelated
Your splattered brain’s too much strain for my kitchens sink to drain
My flat gets flooded by your fucking blood rain hurricane
Blown apart, viola part, my kitchen’s like picasso’s art
The only good news ‘bout this is a newly uncaged donor heart
Never getting backtracked ‘cause that face was all wrecked
Burried in the dirt when there’s nothing left to dissect
No more need for a die hard bodyguard when you get my business card
I will punch you to a retard bastard
The avant-garde birthdaycard that sends you to the graveyard
Skull gets unbarred your brain sent to the junkyard
You are your mothers homespun superson finished by my shotgun right up in your honeybun, this is fun!