The True King of the Big Top

[Intro] *(A carnival calliope playing a warped, mocking tune, screeching to a sudden, jarring halt)* Look at 'em... look at all these little clowns crawling out of the woodwork. Everybody wants to put on face paint, everybody wants to build a little tent, Calling themselves a "Ringmaster," throwing together some cheap freaks. Ha! You think putting on a red coat and a top hat makes you a boss? You're just a side-show act performing outside the gates while the real King is asleep! But guess what, little bitches? The King just woke up. *(Loud cracking whip sound, followed by a hard, suffocating 808 drop)* [Verse 1] Step right up to the morgue of the copycat clowns, Where amateurs drown in their paper-mâché crowns! You stitched together a tent out of hollow illusions, Feeding your brain-dead fans all your filthy delusions. But look at the grease paint melting straight down your face, As you step in my tent, in my bleeding, dark place! I smell your pure panic, I taste your cold sweat, You ain't even crawled out of the bloody dark yet! I'm the rot in the floorboards, the teeth in the dark, The one who leaves skin-ripping death as a mark! While you fumble your toys in the back of the lot, I'm rotting the throne of the empire you bought! So fall to your knees while the calliope screeches, Listen close to the gospel this true monster teaches— There is only one king in this kingdom of dread, And I'll sleep on your throne when I'm wearing your head! *(A freezing cold wind blows through the tent, followed by a terrifying, hollow mechanical laugh)* [Chorus] Open the veins and let it drain in the bucket! You thought you were kings, but you're nothing, so fuck it! I'm cracking your skulls till the grey matter spills, Feeding the throne with your cowardly thrills! A circus of corpses, a slaughterhouse stage, I'm ripping your names right out of the page! So splash all your blood till my bucket is red— The King takes his seat while you bleed out instead! FILL UP THE BUCKET! HAHAHAHA! [Verse 2] You're dreaming of a crown you ain't got the spine to hold, Trying on a character your weak soul can't control! You want to be me so bad it's making you sick, But you ain't got the machete, you ain't got the sick! Look at your pathetic gear—your plastic hockey mask is fake, A cheap little costume bought on a discount lake! You couldn't sew a Ringmaster coat if your life depended on it, You're choking on my shadow while you're sitting there and vomiting! Hell, you step in front of Satan and you start to shake and squeak, While I look the devil in the eyes and make him feel weak! I'm the living nightmare that you wish you were in your dreams, I built this entire bloody circus at the seams— Built it with my own two bloody hands from the mud and the grime, So I'll be damned if I let a wannabe steal it this time! *(Chainsaw revving up into a deafening, heavy metal roar)* [Chorus] Open the veins and let it drain in the bucket! You thought you were kings, but you're nothing, so fuck it! I'm cracking your skulls till the grey matter spills, Feeding the throne with your cowardly thrills! A circus of corpses, a slaughterhouse stage, I'm ripping your names right out of the page! So splash all your blood till my bucket is red— The King takes his seat while you bleed out instead! FILL UPTHE BUCKET! HAHAHAHA! [Verse 3] Let it all out, let the whole damn world hear the decree, There's only one sovereign of madness, and it's fucking me! I am the psychopath weirdo, the king of the floor, The architect bleeding the screams out of gore! What are you clowns doing? Just living an absolute lie, Chasing illusions and false-ass dreams as you die! You're just like the sheep think their vote matters, buying the scheme, Trapped in a sandbox, a pathetic and laughable dream! Playing your games in a fake-ass reality, blind to the core, Thinking you're built like the master, walking right into my door! You can't ever be me, you're a shadow, a glitch on the screen, While I am the emperor ruling this absolute scene! THE TRUE KING OF CHAOS! HAHAHAHA! [Outro Chorus] Open the veins and let it drain in the bucket! You thought you were kings, but you're nothing, so fuck it! I'm cracking your skulls till the grey matter spills, Feeding the throne with your cowardly thrills! A circus of corpses, a slaughterhouse stage, I'm ripping your names right out of the page! So splash all your blood till my bucket is red— The King takes his throne while you rot with the dead! FILL UP THE BUCKET! LOCK THE CAGE! THE REIGN IS MINE! HAHAHAHA! *(A deafening, down-tuned guitar riff crashes like a guillotine, followed by a slow, heavy heartbeat drum, and a single, echoing gunshot cutting straight into total silence)*