3:16
John's on his lunch break stressed out pacing the hall
the weight of his job outweighs the weight of it all
out of shape chain smoking pissing last nights e&j in the stall
working for days without sleeping that's just something waiting to fall
making his way to the county morgue dispatch gave him the call
pushing open the red emergency doors johns sweating and stressed
his nose detects the all familiar stench of decaying flesh
another case load to be filed on his little desk
whats life without a little death whats a fetish without a little sex
john solves the strangest crimes leaving detectives perplexed
in his suspenders and tie his head is a mess body bags under his eyes
eating a dry burger with bread putting ketchup on his fries bourbon and becks
slowly taking his bites the food makes him forget about the pain in his life
putting a strain on his heart but the rhythm is hidden inside
solving true crimes as the days depart in a way it's an art
homicides in the dark keeping john's paintings alive.
The mortician walks in and said they came in later last night
pulling back the sheets revealing new actors who gave up there life
they were Siamese twins laying there rather sloppy
under ambient light among the broken bones and battered bodies
one head joined in two delicate fetal and nude solitude guess who's singing the blues
john got the meat sweats dripping off his chin concentrating on a particular bruise
if you stared hard enough it seemed as if they moved I hear laughter instead
abrasions all over there back and there chest cigarette burns on the back of the neck
another image john would rather forget but he's use to sitting on the edge of rapture and rest
he cracks a smile and gathers his breath knowing its all a joke lathered in flesh
captivating rhymes occupying his time in capturing the many facets of death.
The only real calling inside is bringing justice to all who unlawfully died
the only real calling inside is the weight of the karmic heel halting his stride
only if he could retire move to Hawaii and surf with the tide make it alive
before the monsters he made in his life take up space in his mind
his callings cold he knows people are aching to die
eating his lunch on autopsy tables in vegas observing deceased faces with fries
if they could speak they would tell him all the answers to cases gone bye
even the ones he knew he couldn't hide the ones he murdered himself
that sick lingering fetish he couldn't deny
only we know he's a expert at killing and getting away with the crime.
He said doc cover the rest ill comeback later save it for 5
im working on other cases the metaphorical memoirs of a serial killer sadist
who targets the retarded disfigured patients
contorting there body's into origami pages
ill clue you in later john seen this pattern before
he never leaves a pattern his trails are scattered across state lines
john knows the tricks of the trade hes murdered statewide
been killing for years and remains fine
while receiving his masters from Michigan state he killed two students lake side
from rookie to swat chief to traffic cop the position he lives today never stopped
that's why he always gets away you would never think
the man who kills you will be the one you call to be saved behave
the pretty boy killer who murdered the sleeping woman next door
his own type of policeman a different view of the law.
It's been years since he retired the department flag
gave it up to start his own private cast spite the protest from his dad
an irish captain who later died with his badge
complicated cases made john famous despite what he had
his ex wife left him with nothing but thats life in a bag
behind his sweaty layers of fat he kept up his act to act decent
but we all know evils contagious and he seen so many succumb for that reason
it gave him some purpose some benign twisted meaning of service
to keep his past beneath him he digs skeletons out his closet for each person
that lies on the cold table of steel with no breathe left no secrets revealed
vision is cringe middle aged man who seems nervous hair receding breaching the scale
every evening john has a meeting with cheap bourbon before he leads you to jail.
On the surface john seems perfect for every reason to give but get this
john lives a double life leaking with sin hes in his monte carlo taking a spin
creeping again pall mall 100s and a liter of gin
looking for the weak and the grim abominations of god
who are denied bare necessity's that are given to all creatures with skin
but look at him whose more rotten within a fucking creep
john sharpened his cutlery as he stops the car near the steps
stalking his next victim a scrawny kid who walked with a limp
john whispers to himself this gimp will fit in the trunk
if i give him a shove john tasers the kid from behind
in a instant he stiffened him up breathing heavy
john groans lifting the punk to the edge of the trunk
john unlocks the doors and starts the engine hoping he drawn no attention
stepping on the gas driving into the next dimension.
John learned early on to cherish his life
its a shame hes all alone no kids & no wife
no cat no dog just the cries of his victims at night
a rope hanging from the kitchen fan rolled tight
gonna put himself to sleep the ghost of his victims will kiss him good night
and wish him to die he should of went on a diet too
and kept the monsters in his mind locked in barbed wired room
before the desires grew will the end be his tomb or his tome
john looked in his rear view and realized he was being followed home
sirens blare and a helicopter appears in the sky no fear for john
cause john didn't care if he died but today he will pay for what he hails to be right
a man over a loudspeaker screams pull over the gig is up
a bunch of police cars try to block john in but he ain't given up
drove his monte carlo off the bridge the car burst into flames
the second the engine struck the water he felt a change
drowning in glory while he shouts his name
suddenly john blacks out from a sudden bout of pain
now he appears in hell to himself to heal the world while holding up his weight
without a shame this is for the ones you call for help and the ones who got away
3:16 am...
