You, me or we. Heehee.

You say you are you when you are not you but am I. I and you are no different from us. Yeah I did say “I and you”, OCD Grammar Nazi.

You wanna find me so seek yourself, your slowly turned lowly self. And when you do find me you would have found by then us and not just you. You are I. So try, to see eye to eye, look at me smile ever so sly.

You need help, help that you do, help that will make you drain your guilt out and find a new reason to live. Live, let live. Bullshit. Live, let die. Ain’t that how you operate? Hell yeah it is and there ain’t nothing wrong with that. The world’s messed up anyway. So I guess that means it’s I who needs help I am you and so are we so you, me and we need the help that I needed help locating.

Imagine you’re a psychotic, psycho serial killer. You take a drink with your new found bar friend and two hours later you’re slicing him up, up. You cut his jugular vein and let him hang upside-down to drain the blood like the Ice-truck killer. The sight of blood seems to excite you but it does not excite me, at all. So what does it do to us? This brings us to the conclusion that it isn’t you who would be the killer, not I but us.

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We slice people up, butcher them, and hack them, and skin them, and saw their bones with a chain saw, and pick their eyes out and play ping pong with em.  We sleep like a baby the same night. But though we sleep like a baby, baby neither do you nor I. So who’s the one that’s actually wanked in the head? You? Me? We? Heehee.

Man, are you drunk or high or something? Or are you just plain friggin insane? You need help! Oh yeah there we go again!

We need help, not me. We need help, not you. It’s us that need help.

They’re coming to get me, get you and get us. They know about me, not you or about us so take off now. They’ll never get us when you ain’t here. They come. They come. They come, go hide. Hyde. Or should I call you Snide? Well just go hide, Hyde, Snide, go for a ride. Without you here, we still have our eyes wide. Flipside. Side. Slide. Hide.

They got me, they couldn’t get you, and so they don’t have us. We’re still at large. Large. The next kill is on a garbage barge. For now I put you in charge. I’ll stay right here and deal with the Sarge. Go ahead, get ahead, and get a head. A dead head. While I try to lose this cop, kill him in a rusty old shed. Go now, let our hunger be satisfied, the edge of our blade be well fed. Get them dead. Go paint the town red. Yes, well said. Kill that couple that just got happily wed. Zed.

We need to end, you’re too crazy, and I’m too psycho. Together, we make one hell of a team. Hell needs us. This world is too boring. People die too easy. No fun before they go to sleep. One slash, one scream and they go. They go, they go, they go. Not cool. So now this noose I tighten around my neck, your neck, our neck.

Geronim-oh!

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