Flecks of blood, bone and brain;

Where had the blood drained?

The blade that glinted, oh so cruel;

Where's the soul that's gone from you?

An empty husk, a dry cocoon;

So is your body in the noon;

The spirit gone, no breath, no life;

What shall I tell your wife?

Shall I tell her of your malice?

The lies that you did salvaged;

The deceit that you wove;

To be afraid, so filled with woe;

Yes your wife, your pretty wife;

She shall know all 'bout your life;

She shall know that you lay;

Lay in the gutter till break of day;

Blood now running, draining out;

Down the streets and all about;

They shall find you;

Find you lying in the noon;

You fell for the seductress;

You fell for the seamstress;

You fell for the gardener;

You fell for the killer;