Without A Soul

Watch as he walks
His eyes a red haze
Dressed all in black
Hatred deep in his gaze

Empty inside, he is a shell
Inside his own personal hell

In one hand, a shotgun rests
In the other, a knife
Pointing both at you
Ready to take your life

Long ago, he sold his soul
Now he is a great black hole

Left only with hatred
He travels the land
Bringing death to all
With his iron fist, his iron hand