The Pick-Axe Murders

You thought it was over, it's not over

I'll be 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'll be 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