"If It Were Up To Me"

Spines ripped, rusty blades
Throats plugged ‘til they wheeze
Limbs lopped off and tossed
Eyes grated like cheese

A dissecting tray,
Flatten their limp pricks
—A pin here, one there—
What makes these guys tick?

My dearest Wesley,
Dread pirate you claim,
Please, please consider:
Render them The Pain

Screams of innocents
Blaring in their ears,
Boil their bloody hands,
Magnify their fears

If it were up to me,
Karpen and Gosnell
Would burn infinitely
In the very hottest of hells

If it were up to me,
If judgment was mine
—But it never will be;
Any mercy must be divine