You thought it was over, it's not over
I came back, I brought my axe
In the shadows, alone in the dark
Young victims, I stalk
You thought it was over, it's not over
I came back from the grave to mutilate
Axed in the back, pick through the neck
Dead like the rest, molested and left
Limbs split in half, I ruptured their flesh
Puncture wounds to the head
Bone fragments clot to the hatchet
Knee-deep in the blood of the dead
Cranial separation
Sex with her severed head
Rotten walking dead
Hunting living victims

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