The Hunter Becomes The Haunted

Hunt, kill, hunt, kill
Hunt, kill, hunt, kill

Hi, my name's Daniel Robinson
I'm the ghost that's been haunting your house
I'm seventy seven years old
I was murdered and butchered right there on the couch
I hear you calling my name
And I sure as hell wouldn't be running my mouth
I could be a spirit, a banshee
A demon, but I'm never leaving, that's without a doubt
You ask me to give you a sign
So I throw shit around and start ringing the phone
You and your mum have got something in common
'Cause both of you look around for a bone
Don't let me catch you alone
You should be watching your tone
I hear you scream bloody Mary again
Then I'm coming and hunting you down
And I'll rip out your throat
I see you with the EMF
You're seeing three at best, and five is what you're pleading for
Standing round in freezing temps
You start to see your breath, you place a cam to see the orbs
All this trouble for a check
You're betting me your neck for pictures of a ouija board
Holding up the crucifix
You start to disrespect, I'm sending you to see the Lord
I'ma start draining your sanity
When I can hunt you the front door is getting locked
I'm gonna tell you I'll kill you
You're meeting your death if you talk through a spirit box
Torch get to flashing when I come to torture you
And if I catch you you're getting dropped
Watch when I send you a threat through my ghost writing
You know my hunting will never stop

Hunt, kill, hunt, kill
Hunt, kill, hunt, kill
Hunt, kill, hunt, kill
Hunt, kill, hunt, kill

Hi, my name's Daniel Bull
I'm the bloke who's been brought to this house
A professional skeptical secular exorcist
Recommending that you ought to get out
I'm calling your name, I'm intending to render you
Into a theory disproved
I'm just bopping to the ominous knocking in here
Because it's the eeriest groove
Did you think that I'd really be spooked?
Be serious dude, I'm clearly just too
Inexperienced to really feel the fear some idiots do
Delirious douches, are all like, "Believe me, it's true
It's seen them, it's proof" yeha, and I'm Jesus to boot
If I'd be in your shoes I'd be leaving here soon
'Cause I'm cleaning the rooms of your footprints
Even when I'm in the silliest mood
I'll be seeing this through and removing corruptions
Pull up floorboards and of course there's a corpse
Of a husband that's been causing disruption
Where are all my hot demon bitches?
This is all I need, a dead pensioner
There musta been a Victorian whore in the bedroom
At some point hence, I should mention her
Feel the tension, I'm watching phenomena
On my spectrometer's flickering screen
Feel a shiver but I'm not afraid
It's the radiators that could do with a bleed
My position's apparition abolition
I feel it's done so I dash for the kitchen
Drat, I didn't bring a bag of ammunition did I?
No, don't cut the transmission