Lambs to the Slaughter

Look into yourself, do you see the filth Disgusting selfish petty weakness infecting your life And you just make excuses for everything you are You cling to others to try to define yourself I’m waiting To see your moment of weakness I’m waiting Here in the dark, mind full of malice I’m waiting You’re going to partake in my conviction I’m waiting I can hear the sound of your beating heart The bloodlust is electric, pounding in the veins The click of a lock in cold air, warns of your approach The knife slips in between the ribs, a wet scream cut short Crimson spurts stain patterns in the snow