Teke Teke a Japanese Myth

It still hurts from the cutting train And I can’t find my bleeding legs I hate this unbearable pain So I pass it on to my “friends” My blood seeps out with cold hatred As I draw out my crimson scythe Their slow, brutal deaths awaited In the same way I lost my life My victim’s eyes grow wide in fear When I swing my starving weapon He bleeds a single unseen tear The cloth on his stomach reddens Half his body slumps to the ground And my next victim has been found