Jak Tripper - Dumpsites lyrics

[Intro] Naw man Naw Shes real pretty and stuff You know i like to.. you know i like to talk a lot [i'm fine] I'll talk with them I'll get to know them, you know.. i.. Its interesting of the features I decapitate despondent prostitutes and braid hair Drive by dumpsites around the county and think about the bodies I placed there Alongside railroad tracks, rivers, and dead lakes Victims lay at rest for years, in some cases decades A liar probably But I'll admit to returning to these sites for the rush of s** with expired bodies Now I'm heading north I pick hookers because I can k** as many as I want without getting caught There's an alleged report I got picked up loitering for s** on the street but the cops let me off He said he's lost A little girl said on the stand to the district attorney when in court I stalk tennis courts Beach resorts Rust covered van is grim Contain traces of salt water, sand, and panty rims Close friends and family like, nah it can't be him Water my lawn and wave to neighbors after strangling cross dressers and transients I sleepwalk around my house drowsy on Ambien Ambient Green trucker hut Red wood handle lumber axe Double back To pick up clothing left at the site where the drifter was abducted at Left the hatchet, stuck it back I cuddle trash like cholera infested gutter rats I need listeners to confide in I spend time in Solitary confinement Rehabilitation visit, family signed in I left a string of prostitutes stabbed up with the same exact knife tip Up and down the shores of Long Island Toss the corpse in the back of the pickup and drive it To my apartment, get out, and drag it down to the basement like Gary Heidnik Take it outside and hide it Victims are frightened And shallow minded So I lure them into the work van with kindness Shhh I have s** with the headless ocular cavities and like it Souvenirs are priceless Refrigerated eyeballs and fingertips kept fresh in ice bits Electric shock treatment devices Barrels of chlorine, water, and bleach beside it Pesticide lines drip From tanks of the termite infested floorboard alignment Pile bodies ‘til I have to climb it To get to the door. Burlap bags of prime rib Decaying, timeless Random notes blood typed in fine print I keep some women alive for sodomy with six pronged vices But that's private I built a shrine using human skulls above my fireplace where my statue of Christ is You know?