I've got a story that'll make you crynAbout a young boy who killed timenIt was a massacre, it got out of controlnHe started small with just a few minutesnAnd then he felt his hunger grownnHe knew what he was doingnAnd he knew that it was wrongnBut he just could not stop til every stinking day and week and month and year were gonennSomebody shout murder, somebody call the policenThere's a madman on the loosenAnd he won't stop til all of times deceasednHe commits his crimes alonenHe sits up in his roomnNo second safe from slaughter, tomorrow knows his end is soonnnHe knows what he's doing, but by now he just don't caren'Cos he just will not stop til every stinking day and week and month and year ain't therenn