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Look past the marionette,tossed and bloodied, whore
Through the brown cobblestones on the floor
Along the silver, magikal, scalpel knife
She was a loose woman and could not be compared to your wife
Stick the knife into her fatted spleen
Everything is now drug fuelled and is not as it seems
Cut her throat, sharply from ear to ear
You had listened to the complaining and nagging for many a year
Now all you hear is a gurgling and a sharp death Flem
As you lifted her reddened petticoat from the bottom of the hem
Crouching down stabbing, accentuated by the gas lamp
You ravaged her womanhood with silver, in the cold and the damp
Who gives a damn about a whore and a dirty street tramp?
A revenge against a wife by a Mason with a sharp knife
A sexual desire and the absolute need to take power over a life
Soon you would hear the return of the black horse and the hearse
Another woman violated and the satisfaction of the compulsion and the curse.

Georges.

AH, that Jack. And I was speculating I'd done something to Jack M. Stewart by what I said.

Let me get this straight...

You keep your knowledge close to your chest because to inform her would be to treat her like what you've described here? And that's what you see people doing, being a Jack the Ripper?

Perhaps that was true when you were younger, but not today. Today she has no hope but herself.

And again, I say - why do you feel it must be a scalpel, and you have to stop all scalpels? The scalpel of our history is doing it's work now. She can't hear a word I say - or that anyone else says to judge her.

It's not words needed now, but action. Why aren't you using what you know to ease the pain instead of to twist the scalpel even deeper?

At least Jack took them fast.

Why don't you just arrange to have her prayers answered?

She can't get tired when she sees no way out. We're human, we survive, that's our job. She thinks she has to do it (at least that's what she's been told).

You can keep holding out that baton forever, nobody will take it.

You are the 153rd fish taken from the other side of the boat, by my calcualtions.

I am, I exist, and I'm worth teaching and hearing.

Casey

Casey,
You must be fishers of men.

Georges.

George.Wright wrote:Casey, You must be fishers of men. Georges.

But at some point you've gotta throw them all back, Georges. Our limit is 1, the rules say.

Casey

Casey,
But Noah kept them two by two.

Georges.

George.Wright wrote:Casey, But Noah kept them two by two. Georges.

That was before Jesus made women men.

[yawn]

Casey

Casey,
U are yawning, please have some sleep. dream of Manna.

Georges.

George.Wright wrote:Casey, U are yawning, please have some sleep. dream of Manna. Georges.

It wasn't that kind of dream. Cameo brooches are kind of Victorian anyway. It was a clean dream - as you, being evil, might think of it.

I'm not yawning because I'm tired. Because I'm not.

Casey

Casey,
I was not suggesting anything other than a proper dream, none of those wet ones now. I don't feel evil today, maybe it's your bright interchanges and words of wisdom. I'll talk to a guy named Solomon, maybe he will give me some advice on how to cut babies in two?

Georges.

I know he will. The jokes are mostly mine, any wisdom is squeezed in from that guy too.

Just being safe. Some lightening around here lately.

This is all soooooooo cool. Sooooooo cool. You are all sooooooo cool. Angels is an understatement (IMO).

Casey

Casey,
Angels with dirty faces?

Georges.