THE FIT

Little Johnny stood barefoot Amongst all of these doors.
He needed shoes that fit Before his money was no more.

When he started on his journey
He knew we all had feet.

He thought that one size should fit all
But learned otherwise in swift defeat.

From door to door he went
Giving away his hard-earned cash.

He still walks these streets Barefoot with blisters
and now has a burning rash.

All of the merchants had told him
That sizing is up to you.

Along came this creature
and took Johnnys hand
To create a size that will do.

He pounded and hammered and pulled out four sizes
A gift for Johnny to choose.

The creature stood proudly as fulfillment was given
From the creations that he did.

So if success you are seeking for one perfect fit
Then all you have to do is bid.

CIRCLE OF TEARS

The tools that I use to create my pieces
are primitive indeed.

But if its quality in handcraftsmanship youre looking for,
I can fulfill your every need.

Over thirteen years of creating my tools
for those who find pleasure in pain.

The more I create,
the more twisted I get,
the more that you shall gain.

I love all the people that want me to stop
all the delicious things I do.

If its pleasure you want,
a demented vision, from hands, to steel, to you.

So you stand at this doorway afraid to come
in as you gaze in the dark of my mind.

As you look at my creations,
all blown away from the detail that no where you shall find.

All covered in crystals, all shiny and blue.
Polished like a mirror to reflect what is you.

I give you this circle, the circle of tears.
Built from my nightmares, and carved out of fear.




UNDER NEW MANAGMENT

They use to peddler pride
In their flood of infectious tools.

They changed their name to reappear
The deception of a gentlemans fool.

I wish they would get it,
The play in this game
The quality in which we pursue.

They changed up their name to hide the bad feedback.
For a criminal this is nothing new.

So hold on to your wallets
And youre hard earned cash.

The name maybe be different
They still peddle the same old trash.

FUCK

As all of you know, my tools come with a theme.
My summers are too busy, so Ill just get mean.

All joking aside, I see some that sell glass.
Watch others sell air hose connectors made of infectious brass.

I would rather use drill bits in this type of play.
Its better then whats been passed off these days.

Thirteen years of play and carving my tools.
Keeping my mouth shut about these dangerous fools.

A demented vision of pleasure,
with steel in my hands.

To all at my ankles,
go back and play in the sand.

I have emailed the ones with quality tools.
I just had too speak out to the greed possesed fools.

So use you heads people,
think this thing through.

No one to be held accountable for what you do,
but you.

I could go on,
but Im starting to linger.

So I hold up a hand
and give you the finger.




DECEPTION

Let me give you a heads up.
 With their liability statement I will start.

Dont be deceived,
you may have a case
If your penis it falls apart.

They will stand in the courtroom together.
As you stare from tables drawn apart.

Lets see whos to blame,
is it the way that you use this
Or is the blame in the poor quality of their art.

So let me be a little brief.
My words they come from the heart.

Use common sense,
choose your tools wisely.
Or be left standing like a tart.

Tools full of scratches
and the infections they start.

You can see the poor quality in what they do.
This deception I shall take no part.

I love all the questions.
Like is this thing safe.
This game in which you impale.

Its like smoking a cigarette for the very first time.
Just try your hardest not to inhale.

We all like a bargain,
the chace, and the hunt.

For quality it will cost you,
to be honest and blunt.

Just think of your body with all of its power,
As a really expensive car.

Would you try and save a buck by filling it with water.
Im sure you shall get really far.


FROM UNDER THE ROCK THEY CRAWL

They use to peddler pride
In their flood of infectious tools.

They changed their name to reappear
The deception of a gentlemans fool.

I wish they would get it, The play in this game
The quality in which we pursue.

They changed up their name to hide the bad feedback.
For a criminal this is nothing new.

So hold on to your wallets
And youre hard earned cash.

The name maybe be different
They still peddle the same old trash.

Im tired of pushing this issue,
this need for common sense.

If curiosity calls you from your yard,
watch out for the razor fence.

When ever you climb,
your forced to jump in.

Why not look for the walk gate,
and leave with a grin.

The tools that are out there,
covered in scratches so small.

A hate for us men,
a mission to destroy us all.

They pollute with a river of infection,
 poor tooling that you can see.

So open your eyes,
pay close attention
or be brought down to your knees.

They should design for their gender,
and leave us men alone.

Those infectious tools they peddle,
have set off this brutal tone.

Piggy backed with deception,
is as rude as it is mean.

And they even sell logos,
stolen from skateboarding teens.

Most who read this,
dont know what its all about.

Its the infection they peddle
that makes me shout out.

Someday we shall meet,
on judgement in the end.

But for now I will pass along my quality,
in my stainless to my friends.


LITTLE WILLY

He stood at the side lines
While the big boys played their game.

He was a little embarrassed to participate,
His heart has filled with shame.

He turned to walk to give up this thought.
He started to whimper and pout.

When a deep voice from in him That seemed such a distance.
"Willy, let me show you what its all about. “

He put his hand out
and presented the beginner,

With quality in craftsmanship
that will make him a sinner.

He was blinded by the glimmer,
From this powerful mirrored tool.

As he excepted this vision of pleasure,
He trembled and started to drool.

The voice had left him with simple words
And this is how they go.

If the tools full of scratches, holds no reflection,
drop it quickly, back away slow.

Satans Serpent

The three horned beast.
He lays others to rest

With precision
he shall feast.

No way to tell how long he will be here.
I guess only time shall tell.

Pulled from a deep demented vision
And presented to you from hell.

THE CHASE

Your piles of tools surround mine.
Lay wasting at my feet.

Are you trying to get recognition?
Or gather my loose change in defeat?

Most people dont even see you.
Theyre blinded from my quality and glare.

You just chase dollars with infectious scratches
And truly you dont even care.

People just need to pay attention,
In the quality of the tool.

If a ruff finish is visible in the pics
Its a purchase of a fool.