1. MISANTHROPIC

"Las Plagas de la mente,
Yo soy a quien temes."
They call me Sherlock Bones,
Hell hound for the Devil's Throne.

I'll kill every last one of you
If it means I get to feel something.
Hail to the king.

Hell walks this earth
And it dwells beneath my skin.
Born of a dying mother and a violent father,
I'll do my best to snuff out your existence.
I was there when the rain fell;
When the reaper screamed "fear me",
And helped him out as well.
That boy did well, but I coulda done better.
So if you hear me coming,
Don't run, you won't get far.

Tell me what it's like, tell me what it's like,
Tell me what it's like being me, motherfucker.

It's like kicking rocks in the yard, with intentions to harm;
If death's on your heels, you won't get far.
The devil's on my back, the target's on my head,
Humanity's on my chest constricting my breath.
Disdain, with a foul taste; noose as a necklace.
I can't praise God while keeping a straight face.
Laughing away at his fucking mistakes.
I'm not psychopathic, just a little misanthropic.

Narcissistic to the bone.

So crawl, crawl on your knees,
Beg for forgiveness
For all your dirty deeds,
And your dirty needs
On your dirty knees;
In this house of wolves, no one hears your pleas.

No one talks, not even Jay says hi;
Just because he never got to kiss
His lover goodbye, huh.

Just 'cause I was the one that kicked out her chair.
It was funny, watching her dangle though; gasping for air.
Well, this whole shit show is ruled by an iron fist;
I'm not surprised that dick made a hit list.

He kicks rocks in the yard with the intentions to harm;
If I'm on your heels, you won't get too far.
The Devil's on my back, the target's on my head,
Humanity's on my chest constricting my breath.
(Up, down, spin around)
Disdain, with a foul taste; noose as a necklace;
I can't praise what's not really there with a straight face.
Doctor please, don't mishear me;
I'm not misogynistic, just a little misanthropic.

I was left outside the devil's gates.
So I overthrew him, and now the demons bow to me.
Not even God will save me now;
Don't you know; God Abandoned Me.

Each case comes another kill;
47 down, 47 to go.

I'm a bag of bones,
For the Bad Luck Hell hounds.

Iron cuffs, slapped on your wrist tight.
Spit blood, standing on your windpipe.
I'm that guy that brings a knife to a gunfight and wins.
(Only evil within, like a knife blade under the skin)

"A kill a day keeps the demons at bay;
But what happens when the only demon left is me?"
Choir, tell me, tell me, tell me; fucking tell me.

(Burning down your yard with intentions to harm
If he's on your heels, you won't get too far.
The devil's on your back, the target's on your head,
Humanity's on your chest, constricting your breath.)

Disdain, with a foul taste; noose as a necklace.
(You can't praise God with the devil in front of your face)
Laughing away at all your mistakes,
I'm not psychopathic, I just don't give a fuck what you think.

Fuck you.

"They call him Sherlock Bones."

I'm not psychopathic, okay maybe just a little bit
I'm not psychopathic, just a little misanthropic