What does it take to kill a man? A knife to the throat. Oh, how the ever
helpful Mrs Simpson screamed; gurgling and choking on the blood. Oh,
how she held her throat, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. Oh,
how she looked at me and pleaded with her eyes. Oh, how blood slowly
drained from her face as she turned pale. Oh, how she wriggled on the
kitchen floor of her house. And how her skin felt, as cold as ice, when
she finally stopped moving. A cold death for a cold heart.
What does it take to kill a man? A gun to the head. Oh, how the resourceful Mr Jackson, begged and begged for his life. Oh, how sweat drops formed and slided down his forehead as the minute passed. Oh, how he started to shiver when I put the gun to his head. Oh, how truthful and obedient a man becomes when his own life is on the line. Oh, how he whimpered quietly on the floor, blood oozing out of the fresh bullet hole in his head. A violent death for a violent man.
What does it take to kill a man? A little poison to drink. Oh, how the Maureen sisters choked on their food. Oh, how they frantically chugged water trying to wash down the poison. Oh, how they panicked and ran to the bathroom, when they realized that it only made it worse. Oh, how they cried for help, only no one could help them. Oh, how they begged for their lives and apologized profusely for what they did. Oh, how they lay lifelessly in the bathroom and no one even missed them for days. A malicious death for malicious people.
What does it take to kill a man? A touch of fire. Oh, how the genius Mr Robert jolted awake from his sleep, when I poured gasoline all over him. Oh, how he was so shocked that I had found him. Oh, how he pleaded for his life, for forgiveness. Oh, how he flash of the match shone is his watery eyes. Oh, how the flames licked his body as the ran around the house. Oh, how his charred, lifeless body lay, in the middle of nowhere — A perfect hiding spot — or so he thought. A cleansing death for the wicked one.
What does it take to kill a man? Just add water. Oh, how the people's favorite Mr Wright sat waiting at the dock. Oh, how he tried to run when he saw me — but I am faster. Oh, how the tight rope choking his veins; turning his skin pale. Oh, how he said he was sorry — how he had no other option. Oh, how he went straight down into the dark waters of the river; unable to move, unable to breathe; life fading from his body. A dark death for his dark soul.
What does it take to kill a man's innocence? Just one lie.
What does it take to kill a man? A gun to the head. Oh, how the resourceful Mr Jackson, begged and begged for his life. Oh, how sweat drops formed and slided down his forehead as the minute passed. Oh, how he started to shiver when I put the gun to his head. Oh, how truthful and obedient a man becomes when his own life is on the line. Oh, how he whimpered quietly on the floor, blood oozing out of the fresh bullet hole in his head. A violent death for a violent man.
What does it take to kill a man? A little poison to drink. Oh, how the Maureen sisters choked on their food. Oh, how they frantically chugged water trying to wash down the poison. Oh, how they panicked and ran to the bathroom, when they realized that it only made it worse. Oh, how they cried for help, only no one could help them. Oh, how they begged for their lives and apologized profusely for what they did. Oh, how they lay lifelessly in the bathroom and no one even missed them for days. A malicious death for malicious people.
What does it take to kill a man? A touch of fire. Oh, how the genius Mr Robert jolted awake from his sleep, when I poured gasoline all over him. Oh, how he was so shocked that I had found him. Oh, how he pleaded for his life, for forgiveness. Oh, how he flash of the match shone is his watery eyes. Oh, how the flames licked his body as the ran around the house. Oh, how his charred, lifeless body lay, in the middle of nowhere — A perfect hiding spot — or so he thought. A cleansing death for the wicked one.
What does it take to kill a man? Just add water. Oh, how the people's favorite Mr Wright sat waiting at the dock. Oh, how he tried to run when he saw me — but I am faster. Oh, how the tight rope choking his veins; turning his skin pale. Oh, how he said he was sorry — how he had no other option. Oh, how he went straight down into the dark waters of the river; unable to move, unable to breathe; life fading from his body. A dark death for his dark soul.
What does it take to kill a man's innocence? Just one lie.
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