Bloody Regrets Songtext / Lyric

As the young man I find out that if you hurt somebody

Will lead you all, good guys do finish last



Am I crazy? Am I insane?



Hoodoo is my religion I believe in superstition

Come against me and I turn instantly to mortician

You need some more coninving? Killer like the son of sam

Gruesome with my old depiction twist you like I'm outer realm

Homicidle idle survival of the wickedest

Got my rival suicidal from how I kick this shit

Watch me flick the bic I'm about to light the gas

Then I'mma cut your hand off and use that bitch to wipe my ass

I'm vicious, my heart has no malice

Anti malicious and my trigger finger is so careless

From killin' bastards now all I do is swing the hatchet

All hail to prime minister definition of sinister

Detrimental to industry, breaking bad with my chemistry

Trying go out and info me, fuck with me, feel my energy

Wicked poetic symphony this is how killers meant to be

Boondox and Big Hoodoo no remorse and no symphaty






No symphaty, no remorse, cold blooded

Sick with it, this how we do

No soul, my hearts cold (everybody knows we)

Sick with it, this how we do

Am I crazy? Sick with it, this how we do

Am I insane? Sick with it, this how we do



The pain is constant and sharp

And this confession? It means nothing

The ring around sinking, coming clean like it used to

Permament reminder that I got couple screws loose

Same with the bathub, same stained hands

Drops on the counter top of insane man

Thoughts of the flashback, remembering the first time

That I realized I was evil of the worst kind

Covered toe to head in somebody else's life

And laughing when I lost it, lickin plasma from a knife

Staring at the wind, chippin' down from a slow drip

Lips on the water fountain, startin' with a slow sip

And end it with the crazy mixed pleasure with your shame

A little bit of pain from the liquid that I drain

Why did I do it? Was it worth the affliction

And why did I let to it to become my addiction

The body in my conscious bearing out in the mud

A blood thristy killer with a real thrist for blood



No symphaty, no remorse, cold blooded

Sick with it, this how we do

No soul, my hearts cold (everybody knows we)

Sick with it, this how we do

Am I crazy? Sick with it, this how we do

Am I insane? Sick with it, this how we do



There is no me, only an entity

Something illusory



No symphaty, no remorse, cold blooded

Sick with it, this how we do

No soul, my hearts cold (everybody knows we)

Sick with it, this how we do

Am I crazy? Sick with it, this how we do

Am I insane? Sick with it, this how we do

No symphaty, no remorse, cold blooded

Sick with it, this how we do

No soul, my hearts cold (everybody knows we)

Sick with it, this how we do

Am I crazy? Sick with it, this how we do

Am I insane? Sick with it, this how we do