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;