Last House On The Left Never Seen Again
That one September's morning, standing outside my home.
Contemplating all my problems, cheating wife, lies and
no money. I open the door to the kitchen, slowly
stepping to the cupboards. I grab the first knife I see
to turn around and see her there. Face to face nose to
nose, so close I can feel her breathing, as I lunge the
blade into her chest and out 53 times fast. Spilling
her blood and crying, this is my last goodbye. Bloody
footprints on the carpet trail me as I go upstairs.
Hi daddy where's mommy? - Don't be afraid, baby. - Why
daddy what have I done? I am scared. I love you. - Shut
up.
Feet make fireworks of the gravel as we walk to the
building. My hand trembling holding hers, it was dark
and inside the same. A man hands me a damp wad of money
- no more than 200 dollars. Bound to a bed my daughter
they began to have their way with her. I ran. I fled;
from this feeling, ever hearing the words they spoke.
Now this image stuck in my head, her attached to the
bed they said:
Take off your clothes now this is going to hurt.
Screaming doesn't help but it aids in my fun. Take it
from me this is what I enjoy; I want you to play dead
like your laying in your f..cking grave!
My daughter, I sold her. Echoing in my head forever I
hear her cries... his words...
