The Murderer

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murderer

The murderer, the murderer
Paintin’ a cornfield in summer
He now lives for O.T
The murderer, take pity
He bares his soul in a prison in the city
He killed once and paid the price
In his cell he keeps white mice
The murderer, the murderer
writin’ poetry is his pleasure
The murderer must never be released
unless he can control his inner beast
He has shown some remorse for his victim
Society don’t turn your back on him
The murderer
The murderer

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