A ***er's Unclean Hands

Listen closely to the sound that escapes
The murderer’s burnt lips
It releases blood and everything gory
With a gun in his right hand
How proudly he stands

There goes another dead body
Waiting for its turn to be buried
By the murderer’s loyal servants
Somewhere out there
Where they can haunt the villagers’ wives

It makes no sense
Why they torture the dead
Those who have done all good
End up lost in their own grave
What a horrible death that must be

A million dead bodies found
All bloody and lying on the ground
The sight of it left me astound
With a small hint of nausea
I fall slowly on the pavement

I heard the sound
Of a million gunshots
Little by little I feel
The bleeding coming from my gut
And soon enough, I see the light

Who knew
The murderer would surrender
When he lost his own daughter
Due to his wicked ways
Which led him astray