I ride the storm I've gotta be cool There's something wrong with me As I try to be everything Never should've left my mothers womb Step aside for the genocide I'm a lonely man who's mad I alone could erase the world There are precious live at stake Moving fast in the dark of night I'm a hudred miles from home Stare into my black deep eyes And behold the coming past The coming, Of all the monsters made up in my mind You better belive it The coming, Nothing remains except for clouded memories The coming past I'm sick, I'm drained I try to stay cool Like there's nothing wrong with me When I feel I can do anything It all just hits me right in the face Hiding from it all Wherever I step the ground beneath turns sour The coming, So I guess you've seen it all before But you better belive it The coming Get away before the truth unfolds on you I am a men about to burst Crawling, feeding off of the ground Needing, craving, lust for blood Moaning, yalling, screaming, shouting Feeling nothing, couldn't care less I hate you I roam, I rule At least I think I do, so help me now If I ever had a chance I would go back and change it all Step aside for my genocide (By Jefferson Splitter)