Killed by Norman Bates,
Oh he'd sever through to your gall.
He dressed in lace and halter belts,
He's froze outside your stall.

He's sprawled out where he could lurk,
There's no whistle goes through his brain.
He'll get up in his red silk,
Then a maid or strangly dame.

And the screams so be you give your life,
For him handle your cold skin.
Never no-ing when this thing do,
In his brain set in.
But he would so want to own you,
But what his lust undid.
The handle stuck out from it's bore,
where edge in shiv-er slid.

Only messed with stuff,
In buffness stole their lives away.
Jolly good, be-lated and super scarred,
As plain as the slice he laid.

Eve and Adam died,
Sin attests well rounded you.
Murder-rapers have their slay,
On those harlotons all downed in the nude.

So it seems to be, that he ripped their life,
In a scandle born of sin.
Ever owning those he brings through,
When the slain sets in.
If he could so he would clone you,
Re-do the thrust re-did.
Her channel turned off, on he scored,
But bludgeoned never did.

Trans-genned Norman/Jean,
Though he'd sever threw you he'd maul.
Stormin' Norman's scene,
He's a young man with a twenty second blow,
He'll seize you with nothing to do with sexual,
More into scarin' them although.

And the scenes they'd be out lived the life,
Just can't handle bein' chagrined.
Water flowing tub will ring to,
As the red set in.
As he should he needs to own you,
Until the knife is slid.
Your candle burns out just before,
Your death end's done and did.

Your candle burns out just before,
Your death end's done and did.