With each drop I smile.
Every gallon so ville.

I fill up this jar,
Before they put me behind bar.

Music to my ears, made from the screams
As I take away all their hopes and dreams

Instrument created for peace.
Used by me to cut every piece.

The river of red,
The river of dead.

The jar is almost full.
Blade is nearly dull.

Soon my own will spill...
For all those I kill...

Collecter of life
User of knife

In your cringe I take pleasure.
In ways you cannot measure.

Soon the voices sung:
will my body be flung.

The jar forever stained
Is all that remained.

Of the loved ones I killed
Their liquid life in my jar, filled.

Once it reaches the top
Only then can i stop.

My bloodlust
Is all i can must.

In it i belive
With it i find relive

From this dreary life on earth
a planet that seems to give birth.

Only to misery and hate
This is why i fill up this crate.