January Slaughter Signed From My Hands Lyrics
Let's go!
In 1888,
Slaughter blast strews in the fog,
Darkness rises through the light.
Dismember all his rage,
Undergo of this hate.
Lunar calendar,
Mysterious surgeon,
Leather apron;
The massacre of Whitechapel.
Dear Mary Jane,
Your heart has never been found.
All of your body parts flow
From my dream to your nightmare.
Spirit of your being crumbles over my hands.
My shadow is transparent.
The night born in your eyes.
You paid your royalty.
When all fall... I rise!
Your humble servant,
Jack the Ripper
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