If ever evil was named the placement

of the sordid confines afforded by a little basement

I should say that one is all too right 

To murmur about the murmurs within the night

For a hacksaw hooker saw a shawdy end

By the hand of a man who liked to pretend

That his basement was valhalla and his rats and mice the royals

And the kings and Gods lived there happily thus despite the hooker's toil

And if ever and end should be seen by these women bought at sight

It should not be formaldahyde for it simply isn't right

And drown now lady of the methanol lake and take a look at I

For I weep for you dear yes I scream for you oh lady of the night