So long, long called a ho,
Things he can't remember,
How his mother turned and made him vile.
And it seems that he had no chance,
As through the peep holes he would glance,
Mom's baby, made him nappy for a while.

This Mom made fairy son ad libber,
With ev'ry knife blow he'd deliver.
Bad news when the whore crept,
He killed each as mom whore slept.
He don't remember if he cried,
When made dead and out dad's widowed bride.
But he's so touched down deep inside,
What stayed, his Mom's sick mind.

So why, why do these girls have to die?
Killed him many pretty penny,
But not any knew why.
In the "good old days" he hated Mom and her guy,
Thinkin' how do I now make them go bye.
What'll be the way that they die?

It's not right, this kook Mom's love,
And it's hard to face this john's odd shove.
He does rival, hell you show?
And if he'd leave would it sooth your soul?
You're manic, stave a mortal roll.
You can teach them with a death real slow.

Well you know that shes in lust with him,
You saw romancin' sex with him.
He's so ticked off with blues,
So he'll rig the breakfast they choose.
He was an only tweenage lone son buck.
Was into mean carn-ation with some pick-up luck,
'Cause he slew with the knives he stuck,
Those maimed, the News seeks whys.

The News is bringin',
Why, why, Miss America dies.
Drove quite shoddy into bodies,
How they oddly all died.
They heard no noise 'cept the sink’s shower disguise.
Blood slingin' how much many more will get died,
Whittle on them until they die.

Norm got ten years up until he'd shown.
He was safe to be out on his own.
That's not how he was used, you see.
When this pestered brang for the king and queen,
Food was festered banged with some arsene,
And the choice was made, insanity.

Oh and now the drink was pouring down,
He messed her with a thorny round.
Her mort’ soon caused concern,
Came death soon life adjoured.
As he leavened death he left his mark,
The torment practiced on the stark,
With dead bang surges from minds dark,
The way they pierce the hide.

Blood was slingin'
Die, die kiss your sweet can goodbye,
His blows steady stabbing deadly,
Bleeeding heavy she dies,
That same old noise from boozin' whisky and rye,
No singin' whistle to proclaim someone died,
No one heard as much as a sigh.

Yelper, help her in the plumber’s shelter,
Her words drowned out by the showers pelter.
Knives filed fine for slashin' fast,
She grabbed a towel for her gash,
Filleted her hide with a forward slash,
There he bests her lying sideways in the cask.

Now the fume upstairs did reek that room,
Go and charge it Glade® airing perfume.
A girl asked him to dance,
Oh, but his mom did necromance.
But old Norman liked to play the field,
But so harshly Mom from girls she'd shield,
No wonder now is why he killed.
He slays, he's one sick guy.

He keeps on killing
So why, why do these girls have to die?
Killed him many pretty penny,
But not any knew why.
In the "good old days" he hated Mom and her guy,
Thinkin' how do I now make them go bye.
What'll be the way that they die?

Oh, and stare right there the bathing place,
Exsanguinations he'd embrace,
With no mind left to stop him then.
Norm so nimble, Norm so quick,
Norm slashed up to the handle's stick.
He's wired to his mother's mind again.

Oh, he's just the actor on the stage,
In hand is clenched knife fine steel gauged.
His mother sworn to hell,
Norm have no maiden belle.
And as the dames screamed high in nuded fright,
Norm did Mom's sacrificial rite,
As those maidens lacking blood red bright.
The way these maidens died.

Breakfast bringing,
Pie-pie, he came bearin' a pie.
Loaves and honey, cheery sonny,
Cake was crummy and dry,
A good son's joy brought drinking coffee, toast rye,
Plotting now he'll make these two soon to die,
This'll be the way that they'll die.

He killed each girl and banged a few,
They lasted 'til his mother knew.
And Mom just smiled as each was slayed.
Norm was his mom's forsaken whore,
Swear his hurt was manic years by scores.
Stood a man there made so manic had to slay.

His mind repeats the chillin' screams.
His lovers died, with it go its dreams.
The hurt from his knife pokin',
Those purged belles slashed and broken.
Is he free then of what Mom mired most?
Won't father children, he won't host,
Within his lost brain is mom's ghost?
This day, he's left with whys.

It gets you thinking,
Why, why did he cut their skin wide?
It was scary how he'd bury,
With a parry inside.
Was he a good old boy with a mother too sly?
Tricking this young boy making all the girls die,
Whisperin', hey son make them die.

By now she's stinking,
My, my how he made his mom die,
Breakfast ready, poisoned deadly,
To her bed he brought by.
This good old boy was feeling frisky and spry,
Stabbing misses who'll bleed 'til they die.