The Open Graves

There's a pit in the ground,
Next to the pit is a mound
The pit was neatly dug,
Slowly like a slug

Inside the pit dead things will lay,
There will be hundreds soon one day.
Laying there to be rotten,
Every corpse soon forgotten.

Some were butchered others burned,
And there's no lesson to be learned.
None of them did anything wrong,
None of them sang a cruel song.

In a kitchen blood drips from a knife,
In the cellar blood drips from a scythe.
In a freezer more bodies hang,
In the town the death toll rang.

There is a sick twisted man,
Who dwells within this land.
And every night in the haze,
He throws more bodies in the open graves