I'm sick of you,
I'm sick of your face,
You make me sick,
Get out of my place.
And into your room,
And onto the floor,
Then into your bed,
You made for your whore.

I'll smother you with kisses,
I'll rap you up in sheets,
Then smother you with pillows,
Till you can no longer breath.
And when your heart stops beating,
I'll stare down upon you,
And dispose of your body
Then dispose of mine too.