Keeping The Cadaver Dogs Busy

We, who end lives with a wink and a smile
 and a song in our hearts and a twinkling eye,
 do so with a noble purpose in mind:
 to thin out the rabble of mankind

 We are never where you think
 we'll be
 the shadow underneath your
 sink
 our teeth into
 your fragile flesh
 is ours to do with as we
 "Please,
 oh, help me!"

 Here come the cadaver dogs;
 they'll find where the dead girl lies;
 unlike us, they'll be soft with her
 like she were made of eyes

 "Street musician found strangled
 in the trunk of a car,"
 "Gutted vagrant found hanging
 from a tree in the park,"
 "Naked infant found frozen
 on some steps leading down,"
 "Headless foetus found rotting
 on the roof of a house"

 Recycle the body pits
 and human cluster dumps
 filled with the burnt, the stabbed,
 and the lucky machinegunned

 There are no victims,
 just landfill statistics
 where overpopulation threatens us all;
 "Disordered Thinking:"
 is that what they call it?
 So, our culling (of) the herd has left you appalled?

 (Or,) see it as self-defense,
 if no other way:
 encroaching humans number our days;
 probe the young for signs
 to no effect:
 serial killing's not a birth defect

 Here come the cadaver dogs:
 they'll find where the dead man lies;
 unlike us, they'll be soft with him,
 like he were thinning ice