You thought it was over, it's not over

I came back, I brought my axe



In the shadows, alone in the dark

Young victims I stalk



You thought it was over, it's not over

I came back



From the grave

To mutilate



Axed in the back

Pick through the neck

Dead like the rest



Molested and left

Limbs split in half

I ruptured their flesh

Puncture wounds

To the head



Bone fragments clot to the hatchet

Knee-deep in the blood of the dead

Cranial separation

Sex with her severed head



Rotten walking dead

Hunting living victims