The automatic
Doors open
And my eyes are filled with glee
Insurance check
In hand
Dead husband fund my shopping spree
Life has been frigid forever
From the cold shoulder aloof
So I journey to this hardware store
To buy some killing tools
On the left, some tools to bind
Duct tape and rope are mine
And on the right, some super glue
Seal their eyeballs shut or feed like stew
One aisle in
Creative juice is flowing
Like the grool from my snatch
And over here
Some gardening shears
That I can shove up their ass
Needle nose pliers for their uvula
Sledgehammer for some blunt force trauma
Copper pipe down their throat
Trash bags- viscera disposal
And now, my cart is fucking full
I have no self-control
Imagination running wild
Drillbits for cereal
Some lamp oil to ignite
Obvious, some fucking knives
Sandpaper to jerk them off until nothings left in sight
It's time for me to stop
And leave this ravaged shop
Enter the checkout line and the cashier's jaw drops
He starts to fucking sneer
Now his death draws closer near
He's just become the first
To satisfy the thirst
Plan some more
The time draws closer