The Black Dahlia Murder a grave robber s work

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The grave robber's work is never done
It's up all night and sleep all day
The hours are shit with hell to pay.
Pockets are brimming from our unique brand of sinning
When the ladies claw my back at night
I know I'm doing something right.
I deliver the goods as long as they don't ask
Deny, deny, deny, deny
I'm a working stiff like dear old dad
And to you and yours nothing but curses
You'll slave your life away
And for what?
You're just as dead as these old fucks.
They'll never get me
I'll never run out of stock
With every second that ticks past
The bodies are still stacking up.
So I've clipped a few fingers off
To get that gold for which I lust
From the deadman's bank and trust,
To the depths of hell or bust.
The blackened bits of exhumed evidence
Embedded neath my fettered fingernails,
It's but a smallish part
Of what our dirty work entails.
Come dance with me,
This graveyard planet that you've called Earth
You hold in such a high regard
It's but as worthless as a turd.
Will you follow me into the dark?
Will you follow me into the dark?
I rob the dead for what they're worth
Jewels, wealth, clothing, sex.
When the mood prefers
To carve a sullen path
Through life within the fallen's shoes
You'd turn your nose at me,
Although I smell of sheik perfumes.
So I've clipped a few fingers off
To get that gold for which I lust
From the deadman's bank and trust,
To the depths of hell or bust.
I'm Haunted by faces when I try to close my eyes,
So deeply it festers
The guilt is murder.
The blackened bits of exhumed evidence
Embedded neath my fettered fingernails,
It's but a smallish part
Of what our dirty work entails.
May the gods have mercy,
May the gods have mercy.

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