What the heck!
Thought Richard Speck,
Perhaps I’ll break a neck
Or two, or three, or four;
Who’s keeping score?
So eight young nurses spilled their gore
To give one man a fix
In nineteen sixty-six.
Murder for pleasure,
Death is a treasure,
Orgasm, homicide.
Kill at my leisure,
Unlimited measure,
Now I feel good inside.
What the fuck!
I’m out of luck.
He climbed out of his car.
He almost bluffed it,
But then muffed it,
Murderer most bizarre.
Peter Sutcliffe
Gave whores short shrift,
That wasn’t so bad,
But he really went mad
And turned his attentions
To decent girls
As well as churls;
His cruel, cold metal
Destroyed lovely petal
Jayne M,
And then later
Another two, three:
Slayed them with glee!
No sense?
Nonsense!
He fooled the Old Bill
For over five years
And an ocean of tears:
I smile as I kill!
Murder for pleasure,
Death is a treasure,
Orgasm, homicide.
Kill at my leisure,
Unlimited measure,
Now I feel good inside.
Gacy, John Wayne,
Had thirty-three slain
Before they caught him;
He wallowed in sin.
Dirty old queer:
I kill with a leer!
Trevor Hardy,
He raped and killed three.
Dennis Nilsen,
Peter Kurten,
Pedro Lopez
Maybe two hundred!
Ed Kemper’s
Distemper
Led him to kill kindred,
Including his Mum,
Sick, low down bum,
Like all of them.
All of us?
Why such fuss?
It thrills us so,
Don’t you know
That pain and death
Lend purpose to our every breath?
And, more importantly,
We’ll live eternally!
Murder for pleasure,
Death is a treasure,
Orgasm, homicide.
Kill at my leisure,
Unlimited measure,
Now we feel good inside!
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