By day he worked, but at night he lurked outta sight
Seemed polite to talk to, but something wasn’t right
His eyes would ignite, running up and down bodies
Everybody always told their kids… “Don’t talk to bobby”

His upbringing was average, wasn’t beat, wasn’t savage
With no malice, and a choirboy on Sundays, he’d practice
Mondays he looked forward to school, even mathematics
And was emphatic about gaining and remaining successful
Never complaining or faking illness, so was put on a pedestal
His parents claiming bobby would be a doctor and settle…Down…
Making millions, gaining brilliance and curing ailments
And wouldn’t drown in the social paradox…never failing
In laymen’s he wouldn’t drift, start clowning, then drop out
They’d insist and were correct, became a scientist… no doubt
They were proud, but his mind defied this, with deep secrets
Cos he was sleepless, with wide eye lids… craving foetus
Well almost, cos underneath it, beneath his phenotype
Was a perverted genotype… hidden like the sun at night
Gazing in his dim light, within, a world of his insanity
It would excite him manically and sporadically he’d seek
He’d reap, but no one knew… cos he’d keep it deep
And as he grew so did his urges and surges of disgust
With his sickened lust, but… I cottoned to his way’s of play
The next day… I followed him. Got to know his routine
And like a fiend of mercy, I deemed myself the saviour
To stop this behaviour, of his dirty disgusting failure
“I hate ya” is what I said before I stabbed him in the head
Now he’s dead, im doing porridge… 20 years to acknowledge
Now he can’t forage, and what I saved makes it worth the time
Cos no more rape of kids equals, to me… Peace of mind