A Body Farm

For every life I take, an ecosystem I create
Blood and guts consumes my life
I am the "brutal gardener"
I, "quantity controller"
No more insane than Jesus Christ

Forgive my humble abode
Rotting bodies clogging the commode
Please pardon the stench and the trunk of a man lying on the workbench

Out by the shed are buzzing hives made of human heads
The gestation of larvae tells us
The time of death

Decomposition, an exhibition of life that springs from tragedy
Degeneration, breakdown and maturation of DNA: The residue of death

The twilight falls on maggots burrowing in flesh
Dead, the dead now dead as can be

The cadaver now giving life harmoniously
A God, this makes me a God

This is absurd and quite obscene, the corruption of human beings
My back yard now a goddamned crime scene

I am the Ying, I am the Yang
Good and evil are one in the same
No more insane than Jesus Christ

The smell is part of the charm when you live on a "body farm"
I walk with the stench of decay along corpse littered paths at the break of the day
Ah, the irony in being a killer, yet in the crime-solving community, I am a pillar
A corpse turns to mulch with a good rototiller

I kill for the good of man

Decomposition, a morbid demonstration
The cycle of life, in all its majesty
Degeneration, curdling fermentation of heaps and heaps of human meat

The twilight falls on maggots burrowing in flesh
Dead, the dead now dead as can be
The cadaver now giving life harmoniously
A God, this makes me a God