"When's the new album coming out?"
"When you gonna come to my town?"
"You should make 'd**hcore s**s'!"
"You should make 'Emo s**s'!"
We have had enough of all your sh** and we're fed up
We've decided to have the lot of your worthless throats cut
Our mascot himself is the hitman we call for the job
We gave him your addresses
Sent him to carve up you slobs
Your endless sycophantism we cannot forgive
You haven't bought enough merch
To allow you to live
Fan ma**acre
You've bugged us for years, we don't like you
We want you to die
Fans are all jerks
Thanks for the tour bus but now we don't need you...
So goodbye
The King fireballed Mike Murrell in the throat
Scott Montgomery was drowned in the moat
Tony Sahin was teleported into space
Julie Trubiano got a sword to the face
Jimmy & Toccara Nickerson and Marcy too
Were mashed up with a mallet
And converted into glue
Ryan Krystiniak was burned alive
Ray Magini was seasoned and deep-fried
David M. Clark dies gurgling, stripped of his skin
Dan Hammer choked on his own blood
When we ripped off his chin
We mauled Patrick Evans and
Left him impaled on a stick
That's what you get for liking our band, you dick
Fan ma**acre
Carlos Alvarado is slowly ground up into chum
I hope it hurts
We watch and we laugh as you mewl and you beg and
We say "this is what you deserve ...you scum"
Stormspell Records HQ was blown up with a tank
Michael Hughes met his demise
On the end of a shank
It's wholesale slaughter on
Our loving and doomed devotees
Don't let your blood ruin
Our fancy clothes, you sleaze
Fan ma**acre
Most bands say they're grateful to fans
And their fans are the best
Please buy a shirt
We know the truth, our fans are the worst