You thought it was over, it's not over   I came back, I brought my axe      In the shadows, alone in the dark   Young victims I stalk      You thought it was over, it's not over   I came back      From the grave   To mutilate      Axed in the back   Pick through the neck   Dead like the rest      Molested and left   Limbs split in half   I ruptured their flesh   Puncture wounds   To the head      Bone fragments clot to the hatchet   Knee-deep in the blood of the dead   Cranial separation   Sex with her severed head      Rotten walking dead   Hunting living victims