Vonts  be plotting

 
Dreaming of scheming
See my mentor said

Son you ever go the route and kill another
You keep that to yourself
You bury them low
Two men on a fishing trip
Deep
only one returns

Not a soul knows
Only that skeleton beneath the space
Told with a wink like
You know if you know

How long will that final couple de grace
Drag on and on
Plucking at the skin like a feasting crow
Or will it be a mercy
Quick
Across the jugular
.
Watching you twitching as your eyes go dim