Off to Chicago to make more money,
He rode in his hearse along with his honey.
Tall, Skinny, and pale he looked to be dead.
Each night he slept in a coffin he called his bed.
The mortician wore black, his teeth made of wood.
If anyone could embalm a body fast, he sure could!
His coat even with the floor encased his knives.
He was listening for the sounds of people taking other's lives.
Though he had not been given a license per se,
That did not stop him from doing what he loves day after day.
He loved all of his friends, each soulless and silent.
The ones with a heartbeat say he is just too violent.
Some Say he is Crazy, some say misunderstood.
He says, “To be smart and unhinged, a man should!”
Word has went around that he has a collection of his work
Hanging on walls, and all night to protect them he will lurk.
In need of a few more he set off to find
The murder capital of the U.S. to get the most kind.
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