Dying is My Favourite Type of Hue

London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down
Oh my apologies, I haven't introduced myself
Now where to start?

Well, there's a colour that you turn when you're covered in concern
From the hands around your tightened throat
That aura on display mixed with horror on your face
Forms a flawless pure kaleidoscope
Selfishness and greed from your heritage will lead
To a warped and poisoned mind that is broke
Cast into the dark, but the shadow just enlarged
Thrive in the night like lycanthrop

Please sir, can I have some gore?
There's a horrible twist I've in store
Fed up with bread full of lice what would instead suffice
Last breaths of a passing whore
Been discreet within the dingy streets
The job dirties my mits like the chimney sweeps
Existence a plague, I can bring relief
The tears spill like paint, it been drip from cheeks
Most dangerous grifter placed in Westminster
Exit stage left quick fade into mist
A Feint apparition, they faint at the vision
If England needs a villain, I'll take that position
They wanna rid of the Ripper
But risk getting ripped in my rig of meticulous rigour
Scribble my image from scripture
But didn't consider that history's writ by the sinners

London Bridge is falling
A new day's for you's not dawning
Any time soon (oh no!), the knife looms (oh no!)
The bells will ring and chime, signalling your ending life
Show me inside you 'cause dying is my favourite type of hue

Extra, extra! Read all about it!
Jack the Ripper claims 15 more lives!
Terroriser of the streets of London Town!
Everyone run for your lives! Aahhh!

Causing a scene and palava
Taking my beef to the carver
Sweet and a charmer
You're in my seat at the barbers, Sweeney but sharper
Gatwick, I come with some baggage
Troubled little lad making a fuss and a panic
Bloody up a dash inside a bus or a carriage
Royalty fell like a bed in Buckingham Palace
Let's king size
Big Ben tick tick, chime hit strikes like midnight
Good slash, evil witch side
Step on top of those thin lines, trip lives
Brushed off like dirt on an apron
Dust and muss on the curb of the pavement
Murderous assailant averting surveillance
A curse on the nation, it lurks in the stations

Butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker
They all saw the papers, and thought they were safer
Learned their mistake when I walked into town
One by one they all fall down

London Bridge is falling
A new day's for you's not dawning
Any time soon (oh no!), the knife looms (oh no!)
The bells will ring and chime, signalling your ending life
Show me inside you 'cause dying is my favourite type of hue