M.O.

Listen up, cut it off.
Drag yourself to the top off of the world.
Jump off, jump off, jump off.

Call of your dogs, pull back your search.
Found him turning into dirt.
One sick f**k that we've gotta get our hands on.

I've got a feeling in my gut,
Can't control, can't let go.
All signs point right to where you are.

We're onto you.
Another one six feet down,
Shame it has to be you or me.

Everything, everyone, all over ends.
It's just a matter of time,
Thought you killed the monster, you'll be joining them in Hell soon.

Whoever did this is a f*****g pro.
Must be f*****g smooth, complex, smart and composed.
I know I've seen this M.O. before.

Must jump.
All signs point to were we are.
Now they're onto us, it has to be you or me.