I've been dreaming of the killing gardens
where empty ribcages and tombstones grow
I woke up feeling like I'd murdered something
but who or what it was I didn't know
The bedroom stank of carrion and rye
and all the furniture had been replaced
There was a stranger perched upon my headboard
He said he'd met me at the killing place
He wore a look that was at once familiar
His teeth were sharpened but his eyes were kind
He bowed and told me he was at my service
He advised me to go forth and forfeit
my earthly trappings to a shallow grave
He promised that he would be along shortly
He said he'd meet me at the killing place