Dumpsites

[Intro]
Naw man...
Naw she's real pretty and stuff
You know I like to... you know I like to talk a lot [I'm fine!]
I'll talk with them
I'll get to know them, you know... I...
It's interesting of the features, yeah I understand

I decapitate despondent prostitutes and braid hair
Drive by dumpsites around the county
And think about the bodies I placed there
Alongside railroad tracks, rivers, and dead lakes
Victims lay at rest for years, in some cases decades
A liar probably (yeah)
But I’ll admit to returning to these sites
For the rush of sex with expired bodies
Now I’m headin' north
I pick hookers 'cause I can kill as many as I want
Without getting caught
There’s an alleged report
I got picked up loitering for sex on the street
But the cops let me off
"He said he’s lost"
A little girl said on the stand
To the district attorney when in court
I stalk tennis courts
Beach resorts
Rust covered van is grim
Contain traces of salt water, sand, and panties ripped
Close friends and family like, "It can’t be him"
Water my lawn and wave to neighbors
After strangling cross dressers and transients
I sleepwalk around my house drowsy on Ambien
Ambient
Green trucker hat
Redwood-handled lumber axe
Doubled back
To pick up clothing left at the site
Where the drifter was abducted at
Left the hatchet, stuck in back
I cuddle trash like cholera-infested gutter rats
I need listeners to confide in
I spend time in solitary confinement
Rehabilitation visit, family signed in
I left a string of prostitutes stabbed up
With the same exact knife tip
Up and down the shores of Long Island
Toss the corpse in the back of the pickup and drive it
To my apartment, get out, drag it down to the basement
Like Gary Heidnik (Who?)
Take it outside and hide it
Victims are frightened
And shallow minded
So I lure them into the work van with kindness
Shhh
I have sex with the headless ocular cavities and like it
Souvenirs are priceless
Refrigerated eyeballs and fingertips kept fresh in ice bins
Electric shock treatment devices
Barrels of chlorine, water, and bleach beside it
Pesticide lines drip
From tanks of the termite infested floorboard alignment
Pile bodies ‘til I have to climb it
To get to the door. Burlap bags of prime rib
Decaying, timeless
Random notes blood typed in fine print
I keep some women alive for sodomy with six-prong devices
But that’s private
I built a shrine using human skulls above my fireplace
Where my statue of Christ is
You know?