I killed again - a horrid deed
I guess that’s what they call “compulsive”
An uncontrolled, compelling need
And, therefore, much more repulsive
I let it be and I just sat
With Irish whiskey slowly blending
This story is so bloody sad
I screwed it up, my happy ending
A desperate and gruesome crime
Extremely difficult to pardon -
And yet, again, I killed my time
And hid the body in the garden
*)