Will you ever learn? You kill for woman, politics,
for money. I kill with my free will.
They say: kill, then, damn it, brother-killer,
in prison or in career, you loathsome.

You deny in life. When a victim, you deny it again.
The blood spot is hot on my fore head:
I bloodied my brother. If Abel
would live, I would kill him again.

I killed him because loved him
I kill in clean way. At least, I say, I am a good man.
I love to kill. No prison, no forgiveness for me,

I have no grave, no retribution, no merci.
Vain. You are my prison. I get light from eyes:
you live in crazy, futile killing.