06-10-2005, 07:30 PM
And if Michael Jackson gets off with house arrest or being sent to a country club, I got something for him too.
I have lotsa lead... More than enough to go around.
No mercy for rapists and pedophiles. None at all. They certainly didn't give their victims any, so no whiny pissy excuses. I am gonna catch heat for saying this, but shoot them and get it over with. Saves money not having to update sex offender registries. A nickle and a dime's worth of lead is a small price to pay. They should be tied to the top of a telephone pole and have their genitals pecked off by crows.
What they do leaves a life time of hurt, pain, and suffering on their victims. It screws up the victim's life. No ammount of prison time can ease their suffering, make them better, or allow them to have a normal healthy relationship ever again. Some scars never heal.
No mercy... Ruin them.
I have lotsa lead... More than enough to go around.
No mercy for rapists and pedophiles. None at all. They certainly didn't give their victims any, so no whiny pissy excuses. I am gonna catch heat for saying this, but shoot them and get it over with. Saves money not having to update sex offender registries. A nickle and a dime's worth of lead is a small price to pay. They should be tied to the top of a telephone pole and have their genitals pecked off by crows.
What they do leaves a life time of hurt, pain, and suffering on their victims. It screws up the victim's life. No ammount of prison time can ease their suffering, make them better, or allow them to have a normal healthy relationship ever again. Some scars never heal.
No mercy... Ruin them.
All alone, or in twos,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad buggers wall.
"Isn't this where...."
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad buggers wall.
"Isn't this where...."