Slice, dice
The sound of mice
Is all that�s heard
After a night so nice.
Each glistening drop that falls from grace
Lands upon a sickened face.
Out of body, out of place.
In deepest hearts,
All that�s seen,
Is a soul so black,
With a metallic sheen.
Under cover of night,
And in light of day,
One takes another,
And enjoys the decay.
Come for a shave,
It�ll be a delight.
Come with a story,
Leave without life.
