It had to be done!
Conspiring web, killing me, the end.
Let me haunt you, a chilling tale.
Street cracks feed. Spilt
Perhaps we'll meet someday, when I get blown away.
Bringing forth the light, evil at twilight.
An absolute, depravity
If a weak linkage found, eliminate.
Hear the cities fearful roar. =
from the gutters of the city, filled with vomit, stale wine, urine and
blood. Greetings from the roaches that feed upon the blood of
all my victims.
I appreciate your interest in me, but now now I asked...What of your children?"*
Out to silence me.
Now I sleep.
The city weeps.
["*" taken from letters sent by David Berkowitz, The Son Of Sam]