Nathan Arrowwood

4 years ago

Whitechapel 88,I’m standing at your door., Got your corpse sprawled out on the floor, organs been eviscerated, victims they eliminated, not a witness to report, No face no face, no statement to retort, you inside jacks calypso, left for dead in killers court, heres a lead prescription, close his eyes and shut the door, Psychopath killer, bike path cap pealer, Call me jack the ripper, got an Icy fast trigger, Rain sleet or snow just know I will deliver, send your mama half your liver Justice gettin cold, old cases of nameless faces This murderes personifications of different races, This villan they chasing, is killing with two faces Killen logic his closet got spaces, full of leather aprons, I’m not mason, but patient, thoughts illuminating I’m through waiting for you, what you running for jew, you fool, oh well, I’m coming from hell, tossed you down a well, can you tell, how stale, he was as he fell, Did he scream an yell, no one could tell they seemed not to notice, no emotion is flowing, off a ledge your going, why so serious heath think joken, hearin these words, go them explodin, leavin um chocken, game over, no more tokens, you broke it, this take focus, an passion, then you mashin, wrappin his family up in plastic, what happened is tragic, Mary Kelly, gutting your belly, turnin bone to jelly, it’s a little smelly, so tell me, god can you help me, he’s dead you see his body in an a grave its extacy, What a sermon I’m servin, got you in trunk, now I’m swerving, your mouth to the curb in,cup full a bourbon, think im drunk, curtains lurking Cali smile now you smirking, like a cracked tile, crocodile,at least I didn’t go wild he’s fresh meat ya thought i left your body in the street, Ya right at night this way is cheap, shit is looking bleak, I think they found me, sounds as they surround, helicopter breathing down Traced with tape,they placed, scotch brand, on your coffin, digging in my yard, Scotchland or london, leave’um wondering, words jumblin as you stumblin, I got a dungeon, this ain’t nothing, Just the surface of one face that you touching, so run an tuckin, your husband, give um a kiss, the ripper coming for the sicks doctors bag full of tricks.