The weeek before I'm due

Struggling to keep the peace
Biting my tongue and drawing blood
I want to ram your words back down your throat
And follow them down with a skud.

The way you voice your opinion
The way it's always wrong
Mark my words and mark them well
I'll bump you off before long.

There's a reason I've got my headphones in
It's too block out all your whining
I've got a machete there'll be a wave of blood
Reminiscent of the Shining.

Ah! But wait! There's a reason
I want to incarcerate you in a tomb
I counted the days and I realise
It's the week before I shed my womb.