Cement, bones, a body.
Repent. Run away, they won’t find him for time.
You smashed him up boiiiiiiii, buried him in lime.
Shampoo your hair, you’re scared. Wash your face with pears, it’s a soap. Don’t rub edible fruits on your face in hope that it will cleanse your pores. Poor show. Blood? No.
Grab your conscience and tell it that you don’t like crickets, or reggae for that matter.
You may turn into a donkey, but a donkey didn’t kill him. You did. So be a man and mutate.
Iv’e been roaming around with my feet in my boots, in a town called Callus.
Its made me callous towards you. You’re apathetic and you find enjoyment in being cruel. Lets do this. I’ll wail.
So basically, you threw him in the cement mixer?
Don’t lie I saw you.
I heard you, you hear?
Lets advance to a beer.
Maybe I’m a murderer too. Thats why I’m acting so calm.
