Machette Lyrics

The sharpening is a wonderful process,

to think the blade will meet your neck,

more reason to continue on and press,

ever so slowly as skin is torn to a wreck

Why won't you give in?

The screaming just makes it worse,

your limbs are simply thrown in the bin,

chunks of carcass all around leaves nothing but a curse



Machette,

a deadly tool of the trade,

impossible to clean from the mess I've made,

inflicting wounds as deep as your lies,

mentally ripping it through your hypnotic eyes