The First Victim

As we march
they slowly cry
for many souls
tonight have died

not just one
but many more
their heartbeats taken
yet with no gore

a grave wont help
they'll find a way
to make you hurt
to make you pay

for many lives
ive taken, dear
to push back all
my silly fears

a knife will help
to ease my pain
while looks you take
are all in vain

but as i walk,
a coffin held high
i think and wonder,
why them to die?

a simple question,
really, quite so
but then, why wonder?
when i already know

a funerals march
has set a pace
as we look
at their waxy face

for i was cruel,
but that they wont know
for a slip of evidence
has yet to show

not a drop of blood
or a smudgy print
a piece of cloth
of a ball of lint

but in the ground
all in a row
they're here, i know it
time to show

my victims are many
yet my regrets are none
for knowing that
is lots of fun

so as we march
all clad in black
by my statements,
dont be taken back.

so i killed them all
old news is true
but how'd you know
the first victim was you?