The autumn colors always set my teeth on edge

The dismal palette shall be the decorum of the Dead

Amidst the London, by my chastened blade, I claim

Tonight shall be the eager stage to conduct my sordid game

I disemboweled the courtesan like a beast sent to desecrate

I pierce my teeth into their jaded skin before I deflorate

How perversely my hands push razors through their contorted vulva gates

Among the precious viscera my wretched urge will slake

I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain

More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane

Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore

‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore

With parchment and ink I attest to harlot cud

I’ve adorned this world with grotesqueries

Painted in precious blood

How eloquent, my hands push blades to flesh

I shall daunt Whitechapel as a haunting shade of death

I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain

More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane

Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore

‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore

Shrouded in Anonymity, my face shall be disguised

For I am divinity, unfit for mortal eyes

With the scalpel I am the artisan to manifest

The archetype for sordid goddesses

OH MURDER! The slit throat siren cried

As I pushed my hands inside

OH MURDER! Waned her dying eyes

My ties to moral fabric divide

I am the nightfall that contorts your feeble brain

More Lycan than man, I hunt as human bane

Neither lust nor stature drives my blade to gore

‘Twas sadistic pleasure to dissect the filthy nameless whore