The autumn colors always set my teeth on edge The dismal palette shall be the decorum of the Dead Amidst the London, by my chastened blade, I claim Tonight shall be the eager stage to conduct my sordid game
I disemboweled the courtesan like a beast sent to desecrate I pierce my teeth into their jaded skin before I deflorate How perversely my hands push razors through their contorted vulva gates Among the precious viscera my wretched urge will slake
I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore ‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore
With parchment and ink I attest to harlot cud I’ve adorned this world with grotesqueries Painted in precious blood How eloquent, my hands push blades to flesh I shall daunt WhiteChapel as a haunting shade of death
I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore ‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore
Shrouded in Anonymity, my face shall be disguised For I am divinity, unfit for mortal eyes With the scalpel I am the artisan to manifest The archetype for sordid goddesses
OH MURDER! The slit throat siren cried As I pushed my hands deeper inside OH MURDER! Waned her dying eyes My ties to moral fabric divide
I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore ‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore