كلمات Molester

Dear Mr. Coleman I hope your fingers rot I pray that you will be the last of your kind This is a warning to you Hell will seem like a ride compared to what awaits for you That evil look you gave her, that contradicting smile Those goosebumps swell with your perversion He whispers: I will kill you The sweat drops from his brow He knows he'll have to face her father Your old wrinkled hands and those pebbles for teeth I hope you had a good life, now put your hands to your knees With the TV so loud, all the neighbors will hear Is a re-run from Seinfeld and they'll cover their ears They will never speak your name, they will never hear your name Dear Mr. Coleman I hope your fingers rot I pray that you will be the last of your kind That evil look you gave her, that contradicting smile Those goosebumps swell with your perversion