The Barber 

Misery begets, by the act of misery…

Shillings, silver and the love for gold,
a story told like that,
of a man named, Benjamin Barker

Now get into a cool blues sort of mood…

I want you to feel this, it’s coming strong,
my love for you, baby, it’s true, only you,
can get me into a mood, to sting the night

Above a shop, with a razor sharp edge…

Feel my breath, as it heats your flesh,
a burn, that yearns to turn and turn
over flames from hell

A loss so great, yet it satiates…

As deep as slitting throats
To selling pies, with eyes
Saving skulls, like a string of pearls

No limits for a woman like Mrs. Lovett…

Minced meat, soaked in blood bread pudding,
hot from oven, flying off the shelves,
onto tables filling belly’s full of death

Revenge, best served, stone cold dead


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