• Deep in gloomy darkness with the streetlamps not yet lit,
    Two rebellious dropouts stood beneath one swapping spit,
    And the dusk that fell hit hard back home to basic moral values,
    An old white man in an old brown coat could not conceal a scowl,

    And the chorus of the women with their hair dyed curly white,
    They sang in steady pitches that broke through the tranquil night,
    The girls beneath the lamplight not daresay speak a word,
    Yet the clinking of their piercings made sure the world heard,

    The man walked down the cobbled street he walked so much before,
    His head tucked low, his eyes aglow, his pockets clenching ways of old,
    The women’s chorus broke again the silence of the dusk,
    And all the while, the girl’s smiles were rich in dripping lust,

    “Thank the lord from whom our God gave a savior we are told,”
    And into the night summoned forth a lamplight by the choir ladies old,
    “Christ! Our King! The joyous scream will echo though the age!”
    The lamplight now revealed the sight of the girls love forbade.

    And no more could stand that scornful man, who approached the girls, gun in hand,
    “This is not by hand what God command, I pray you meet no meet no promise land!
    “I wish you suffering and fire, for your wretched love and sick desire!”
    He pointed the barrel to their heads, pulled the trigger twice, watched as they bled,

    And the crying girls shared one last kiss, the man shouting claims of witch,
    The cropped-haired girl then saw her fall into her arms, and up then did she glance,
    As if by chance, the accursed pair, now broken from their lustful trance,
    And given her a stronger insight to the sight the man did see.

    While blood dripped into her eye, she shared the scorn of the killing man,
    The choir sang of a cross with nails, a hanging man cursed by evil yells,
    “And is it worth the right to kill, to break the fifth and a life to steal,
    “You yourself, sir, are the purge of the Earth, I shall see you in Hell.”

    The man watched as his victims died, while only tears of blood were cried,
    While he thought upon his evil crime, the barrel hot, the trigger drawn,
    He took aim once more to the sky, and fired to shoot out the light.
    A breaking of glass rained down with fire, such as the death of the girls’ desire.

    “Come forth, said the lord, and forgive your sins, before the world draws to an end,”
    The chorus sang, the church halls rang, no bells were heard for those killed in shame,
    And into the chapel stumbled the man with a scowl, he killed a curse and such was himself,
    To the alter he ran, the choir stopped still, not a twitch of a lip, not a flutter of frill,

    To his knees he did fall, to the floor met his gun, what was to become of this accursed one?
    His brown coat was splattered with the blood of his kill, the sickness was his, this bitterest pill,
    Not a soul could be told that he had stolen two,
    And to mercy was none and there was one last kill.