Boondox
"Seven"

(A tisket, a tasket
The scarecrow's out his casket
Turn out the lights and lock the door
Prayin' that he passes)

A vision of the dead in the inbred backwoods
Motha fucka born inside a tool shed
Momma never loved me, never paid me no attention
Daddy was a rapist, thirty years up state in Fulton County Prison
And I was raised by my own will
Survivin' off'a scraps and bones, bear traps and road kill
Spendin' my days and my nights all alone
And my mind is gone there's somethin' wrong with my dome
They should'a put me in the tomb, I didn't ask for this life
When they cut me out the womb with a dull pocket knife
Now I walk with a cythe and a murderous ability
A corn-fed motha fucka filled with hostility
Cracked out and I'm gone off that moonshine
A hundred eighty proof wine made from that muska dyin
Out in these corn fields learnin all these wicked skills
Swingin' slicin' choppin' dicin'
Country boy born to kill

CHORUS (2x)
A demon spawn, the child of a bastard son
Seven born at seven and the seventh child fathered one
So black full of pain
Bodies in the field, blood pourin' like rain

Dont get lost in the woods in your black expedition
On a dark dirt road so suspicious, just trees and ditches
Headlights flicker and it's got you turnin' switches
Now you so damn scared you 'bout to shit in your britches
You can't think straight all you hear is heavy breathin'
Are your eyes just deceivin' wut it is that you seein'
When I pull up the eight four, pistol in the floorboard
Blast out your back glass got you screamin' oh no
You finna' know the reason and you 'bout to find out
Wut it is to suffer with a rusted blade in your mouth
Nowhere to run nowhere to hide
Bein' stalked by the scarecrow the blood line of Malakai
I hear these voices talkin' they won't leave me alone
Tell me snatch up this bitch by her hair and drag her home
Over my shoulder in the back of a pickup truck
Can't wait to get her home and hold her bleed her then chop her up

CHORUS (2x)
A demon spawn, the child of a bastard son
Seven born at seven and the seventh child fathered one
So black full of pain
Bodies in the field, blood pourin' like rain

A tisket, a tasket
The scarecrow's out his casket
Turn out the lights and lock the door
Prayin' that he passes