the man with the scars
is not the same as he was
when his skin was silky and smooth

the bare his name
with great fear and much shame
for now he's rought and so crood

with his dead ston cold eyes
he can parelize
all those who he chose for his aim

they fear for their life
with every move of the knife
but he'll cause them nothing but pain

as the blood gushes out
he was free of all doubt
of his own worth and masure

and with every cut
the darkness grew in his heart
followed by bloodrops of plesure