A killer comes.
A killer goes.
He walks into a killer’s home.
And says, “Good night” to the moon.
He has a killer’s house and car,
Quite different than his old guitars.
He’s slowly killing me
But I do refuse to believe.
A killer comes
To her backdoor.
He will not knock,
But I’m not quite sure.
He knows the bluebird sings.
But I do refuse to believe.