Dear Mr. Coleman I hope your fingers rot
|
I pray that you will be the last of your kind
|
This is a warning to you,
|
hell will seem like a ride compared to what awaits for you
|
That evil look you gave her, that contradicting smile
|
Those goosebumps swell with your perversion
|
He whispers "I will kill you"
|
The sweat drops from his brow
|
He knows he'll have to face her father
|
Your old wrinkled hands and those pebbles for teeth
|
I hope you had a good life, now put your hands to your knees
|
With the TV so loud, all the neighbors will hear
|
is a re-run from Seinfeld and they'll cover their ears
|
They will never speak your name, they will never hear your name
|
Dear Mr. Coleman I hope your fingers rot
|
I pray that you will be the last of your kind
|
That evil look you gave her, that contradicting smile
|
Those goosebumps swell with your perversion
|
|
-----------------
|
Molester
|
| The Plot In You |
