Heaps of Dead - Bone-Can


You wake up disoriented in the trunk
Lying there bound and Gagged
I hear you Panicking and trying to scream
Driving you to my shop
Trunk opened, lifted out and dragged inside
Butcher shop, hang you up
Cold torment, in the cooler and waiting to die
I prepare to cut you up
Trapped
You hang and wait, there is no escape
From the butcher
Took down from your hook on the cutting board you’re put
Wait for the first cut
Remove the gag from your mouth, I want to hear the sound
of you screaming
Starting at your feet, strips of bloody meat
Thrown in the bone-can
Screaming as you’re slaughtered by this Butcher
slicing you into bite-size pieces
Brutal torture your blood nearly drained out
Slaughtered Butchered Mangled meat in the bone can
Your stomach sliced open, gaping wound
I pull out Intestines
Your last sight -Your innards and organs removed from your gut
Discarded into the Bone can
You’re dead now, Your bloody corpse lay silent and still
Dismembered. Dead eyes staring
Cleaver raised up In the air with finality
I take your head
Bring the cleaver down
Take your head off
Bloodlust has overcome my compassion for human beings
I’ve lost control of all my thoughts. My ears forever ringing
I’m past the point of no return. I’m past the point of reason
Cold calculation floods me, I declare it Killing season
Another and another and another - none can stop me
Relentless in my hunger and my urge to make your flesh bleed
I feel detachment as I stealth behind you and swing the club
I drag you to my car and pop the trunk and soon you will be meat
They won’t catch me
I leave no trace of DNA to name my identity
I’ve been professional for years and I have killed a plenty
The fucking cops don’t have a clue of what goes on in my room
The whores aren’t missed much on the streets. They won’t be noticed that soon
The Pigs are well fed in their pens when I bring out the bone-can
Libido rising as I start carving to fill it again

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