Sweat drips, from red lips, as his head dips
And slips, into one of those mad trips
Ten clips, a script, hid under his mattress
He‘s a mad man, serial killer in practice
Three buried in the back, one in the front
Fuck her, kill her, have more fun with her cunt
No son of the sun, he lives in the shade
Lives in a cage, a blockade of invisible rage
Dismay is his ray, his light in the night
Guided by fright, with his eye on a fight
Hollow shadows scale the streets at dawn
When light hits your lawn, this beast is gone
Fire in his eyes, a Michael Myers in disguise
Today is invincible, if tomorrow never dies
Write his rights, his beliefs and his worries
But don’t anger a man who’s lethally hurried
Streets are bleakly blurry, no meat here, it’s early
He continues to scurry, his mouth bleeding and furry
double vodka to numb the pain, he was dumb again
Tired and bored, from no fun in this funny game
Smoked too much dope, and bit a bit of his jaw
He needed fame, his eyes lit at the thought
But does fame, only come to killers we caught?
Nope, ‘Jack the Ripper‘, to villains he’s god
Funny things happen, life is a stand-up
He has a man, against the wall with his hand’s up
Thinking he’s mad tough, gripping his knife
Stabbing this man, in front of his kids and his wife
Soaked in blood made his way through the kitchen
Snagged on the back gate, he made a fatal decision
Cut off his top, and escaped with precision
Three days later the local papers are hailed
Story of the year, made for good sales
The killer rots in a cell, through fault of himself
DNA got him in jail
If he stayed slow and steady, he’d be home already
And not locked up for life and alone at twenty
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