the price of the hunger is fear
the lamb and the slaughterer are here
something you’ve said before I came
something kissed my soul
and my land of thoughts shined
pickin’ up your fears
and I cannot poetize the life
of an add job man of the crime
so ... so ... and how do you call this
maybe the first fall

I’ve thought of the dinner crime
the perfect way to die
but I can’t reorganize my mind
my mind master of the worst crime
I’m the assasin, are you afraid
you are killed by the onion

the spice that you like is fear
food that you need is real
you’ve tasted my speciality
cooked or underdone is cruel
nothing can change my plain
next to you I feel no blame
yes I’m very well by now
thinking about my work for crime
but watching you I recognize
your pale ghost in me.