Luyện nghe bài hát Misfortune

Like to the slaughter
He lures them to death
thoughts fill twisted mind
A for tearing flesh

Friendly face, a
He traps after school
Flat chested, pretty six old
The type makes him drool

Lubricates his vile
tied to the bed
Rams his rod, the snaps
stained brown and red

Frustration tears his mind
The pain in his brain, him insane

His tool shed hosts, a magnitude of
Torn and
Bloodied meat strewn on the
From bodies slashed and

Sickened brain, repulsive
Feeble bodies apart
Finger paints body fluids
abstract art

Stark mad
horrid dreams
Horrors of his mind made

More than flesh and blood can
Raging
Feeble drifts away
lies still and cold