my blood is on his hands, but oh, he got away! "he's a thief! he's a thief!" i cry as he runs into the distance with my innocence in a bag thrown over his shoulder i scream and shrill "there's not enough evidence," they said but my blood! oh, my blood! it's on his hands!
i want to douse him in gasoline and throw matches on him i will laugh and smile while he screams