Songtext von Bleeders

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