Mr. Dreadful

i see you toiling under the pale harvest moon

sad wretches laid to rest, you know it all ended so soon
for you it's just another night and business is booming
and that guy on the left was a friend, i'm assuming

you know i shouldn't smile at atrocities of this kind
the way you tip your hat and how your grin does shine
a certain flair as you work just sets my mind at ease
while you bury every last one, an end in varying degrees

well it's not up to me to judge right or wrong
but i have to wonder where have your manners gone
because i think a modest eulogy would be nice
a flattering recount of every sin and vice

whether or not they were ready to meet their fate
or find peace with their own expiration date
you have to admit that it was all in good fun
and such tales to tell when the night is done

does one dare hope to be like you someday?
giving rest of this conscience that gets in the way
and finding solace in what makes others recoil
finding peace in the smell of freshly turned soil

well get on with your work, the sun soon will creep
into hollows and valleys its rays will soon peek
with its cruel harshness burn through the veil
over our purest intentions it soon will prevail

this moon won't sail forever, you know
and all good things must come to a close
but i hope to see you again some dark eve
and maybe you'll have some new tricks up your sleeve