Songtexte: Acacia Strain, The. See You Next Tuesday.

I said run.

And you won't be able to see me because you'll be bleeding from the eyes.

The thought of your genitals makes me sick and I bet you could fit five cocks up that ass.

Why don't you just strap a mattress to your back?

These are the last days of the rest of your life.

Next time I want a better excuse - dropped like a bad habit.

I wash my hands of you all.

My slate is clean.

And I'll be smiling all the way to the bank.

Face down, ass up; I want to destroy something beautiful.

By the end I want everyone dead.

By the end I'm going to be the only one standing.

Not even your children are safe.