There are BONES scattered throughout the city
In weeds, in bushes, in very shallow graves.
Birds? Squirrels? HUMANS? Oh, what a pity!
Perhaps they’re children who didn’t behave.
The killer must believe he’s hidden them well,
And he has! Thousands of people walk by,
But none see. At murder, this guy excels.
Drop a rib bone here, big toe there. How sly.
Only the dogs understand the extent
Of our maniac’s bloodthirsty ways.
The organic remains must have such a scent!
The dogs lose all control. They’re desperate! Crazed!
Without understanding his own crucial role
Our dog aids the butcher’s murderous trip.
Root out, carry, disperse – that’s the goal!
Truly, a symbiotic relationship.
Yo! Hold on. That ain’t no human patella.
It’s a pork rib, littered. Stop dreamin’ fella.
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