There are people I dismember,
Like my wife, locked up in chains,
I ensnare them in my basement,
And I cook and eat their sweet remains.

All these people begged for mercy,
But this I denied, I fondly recall,
I'm insatiably bloodthirsty,
With my knife, I cut them all.


But of all these bygone victims,
There is no one compares with you.
And their entrails aren't appealing
When I smell your bones boiled in my stew.

Though I know I'll never lose the craving
For "Mailman Surprise" and "Sauteed Whore,"
You're better than the body parts I'm saving,
With my knife, I'll cut you more.


[harpsichord interlude]


Though I know I'll always want to savor
The taste of their flesh, their guts and gore,
I know that you possess superior flavor,
With my knife, I'll cut you more.

With my knife...I'll cut you more.