The meaning of life,
all comes down to my knife
ask him a question,
his answer will be a chronological succession,
His name is "ol trusty"
He's getting a bit rusty,
I'll just have to shine till she glistens,
that ways he'll always be there to listen,
I love to cut,
the pain is good as he stabs into my gut,
this is pain i wish to share
But of course no one else would dare
But ya know i gotta admit,
Soon I'm gonna throw a fit,
Now I'll just go back to my tree
So let me be!
So let me cut!
You stupid little s!ut!
