Mad Butcher
A fire is burning in his eyes
His brain is in war and the evil will rise
His blood is black, it's scalding hot
Now he's got to ramble,
He knows that's his lotThrough the Blackstreets of the town
His steps are clanging
Now he's wanton, oh he's panting
In his hand a blade of solid steel
Now it's the time you got to feelMad Butcher
He feels his driving, satisfaction he needs
He's watching you pussy, he will get his food
And when he arises you think it's a lover
But he likes strange practices, you'll discoverYou lie on your bed, your view real seems great
But instead of his prick,
He's drawing his blade
Oh he's so tender, when he makes love to you
That you couldn't stand it,
It's a pity for you
Songwriters
MICHAEL SIFRINGER, THOMAS SANDMANN, MARCEL SCHIRMERPublished by
Lyrics © THE BICYCLE MUSIC COMPANY