Killer In the Rain

There is always a killer standing in the rain, a disciple of doomsday who drip feeds on pain; there is always a killer with pistols and knives, a maker of widows from once happy wives. As the dreams turn to clay which the rain sweeps away the killer just laughs 'till he cries. There is always a killer standing in the rain, his hands never free from the blood crusted stain; there is always a killer who suckles on hate, a bringer of shadows, a dealer of fate. As the dreams turn to rust which the wind strips to dust, the killer just laughs 'till he cries. There is always a killer standing in the rain, embracing diseases and driven insane; there is always a killer who plays out the rope, allowing enough for a false sense of hope. As the dreams cut to Hell in which nightmares excel, the killer just laughs 'till he cries. There is always a killer standing in the rain who whistles a theme tune that snags in the brain; there is always a killer with animal eyes and charisma of evil embellished with lies. As the dreams turn to clay which the rain sweeps away, the killer just laughs 'till he cries.