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You wrote a few lines of love
To these widows who need promises
Your bald head and your beard
Have dropped far more than a price of virtue

Too bad, they believed you
All women under your roof burned for you

You charmed her, after a date
And in the house of horror, they rest

You stole a few pennies from her
And the game can start over
In this house with a foul smell
You put her in confidence

Too bad, they believed you
All woman under your roof burned for you

First the chloroform battle
Pulse slowed
Then you slice

"vous parlez toujours de ma tête.
Je regrette de n'en avoir pas plusieurs à vous offrir"

You saw the limbs and the head
You dismembered everything she was
And in your preheated oven
She burns

She burns. Until ashes