It seems to be cold in here, Inside the empty head of you. The end of you. When you speak, your pink, Pink pout spouts out poison, And without a doubt, They believe in you. Idiot, well i know, yes i know, What this is about. I have most definitely figured you out. Behind your vile smile, Here is more teeth than i can count And a pair of horns to go with your lying grin.
