You kill three people, you take a shovel and their buried at the steeple, and you can’t take it, your minds so feeble. You go to your house, and your neighbors hear you laughing, you can’t help it, your thoughts are flashing. They called the doctors, and they take you away, you smuggled a knife, come out and play. Your in the asylum, getting locked in a room, the guards are cleaning, and using a broom. You’ve been there for seven months; the guards treat you bad and call you a dunce. One night, they take you in your sleep, they take you to their ward and they don’t make a peep. You wake up, with pale skin and feeling sick, you taste blood in your mouth, and you start to lick. You look beside you, and see a needle, you’re chained down, you wonder what’s crawling on you, and you see a beetle. The curtains are bloody, and so is the bed, you feel your blood pumping; there’s an IV in your head. You smell blood; you sniff the air, your coughing it up and nobodies there. Finally, you hear people talking, walking toward you, and a gun that’s cocking. They open up the curtains, and ask you your name, you respond, wrong move, what a shame. They shoot you in your leg, you scream out in pain, they walk over and pump more liquid in your brain. You struggle and scream, and do everything you can, but that’s what they want, that was their plan. But you know your beat, you get a craving for meat, and in a few days, you’ll be walking the street.