[Marcus N. Colon]
disposed of, without a trace, the young maidens dismembered cadaver, receives her grave, no stone to
mark, where she lay.
to what avail, such a waste, grim empty souls store her life, for satanic haste, a brutal crime, Satan receives
his offering (in the forest of horrors).
oh where could, our girl have gone, a father cries in prayer, their desperate hearts, search
eagerly, but hope is fading dim.
fabled stories can be told, but who will know of its realities, fabled stories can be told, can we
overrule the possibilities.
overwhelming, taunting, torment, stirs a trouble minded man, "how can I not, give the truth, of the things
I've done and seen!"
I must tell, I must tell, I must tell...
[Solo Marcus]
his return, to the scene, of many ritual
crimes, bringing in, the authorities, to uncover the hideous finds.
but no bodies, what?
no proof?
they find to his dismay, "but
the stories, that I've told you, have happened as I say!"