My Way:
I wrap my fingers around my bat,
They say that I look like an angel from a divergent facet,
so that, I am Elysium sent.
But did I not forewarn you not on your life to piss me off or to fuck me over?
Didn't I breathlessly express to you if you ever fuck me over,
Would I fuck you over as I see fit?
That you would have to pay your fucking due's?
Now that your torment me all the fucking time,
I have this insufferable hat that remnant inside of me!
Where only remains is an obsidian hold lost in my animus
I will crucify your fucking commiserable essence
I will anvil myself to the darkness
I will succumb to my inner demons
Where I will indulge the malignant spirit to snuff out all the light in my vitality.
That soupçon intonation inside of my capitulum
divulge me to harm your interior,
my mad as a hatter bitch and certifiable demented brain
observe the allurement in my emerald oculus
I cackled, on the grounds, you are an imbecile to envision yourself pardoned.
I bash the bat into your automobile's windows,
You tell me I need therapy,
That I need to be taught to go to my pleasant domicile
I oscillation the bat where your ribs are, as I smash it hard into your flesh.
I sing out,
'This is my therapy, bitch!'
