The Monster

He lets the monster, out to play; He's killed so many, in different ways. He likes to wrap them, up in sheets; He likes to make them, realize their feats. Not because the job was good; But because their inner demons could. The victims that fall, right by his hand; They're the ones, who do what they can. In order to fulfill, that inner need; They'll go about, their dirty deed. Never to suspect a final bet; He injects m99, right into their neck. As his victims fall unconscious; Lifeless, Into his arms. A small little voice echoes; "Don't get caught". The monster welcomes; Their final embrace. As he takes one small cut; On the side of their face. With one drop of blood, And one glass slide; His one sharp knife, Takes their life as they die. With knife buried deep, Into their chest; They close their eyes, For their final rest. As another body, Gets cut into pieces; Theres plenty of glad bags, To go through the seasons. As the monster takes, Another victim; He boards his boat, While they come with him. After alls said and done, And a body drops to the sea; He turns around smiling, For he too fulfilled his need. As he cracks a beer, Relieved, it's on ice; He raises his drink, To one hell of a night.