The Curse Of Whitechapel

Through London's fog, I stalk her streets
Extermination's what I seek.
To cure this disease that plagues our land
I must make use of my skilled hand

They call me Jack, it's not my name.
nom de plume for a journalists game
There's many pretenders to my throne
But none of them rend flesh and bone

Lilith, and Mary, Jezebel, and Eve
gave birth to this plague and planted their seed
From Hell I bring a message to the blind
From Hell I will free all mankind.

Through the fog, and through the night
Bathed by the stars and Luna's light
Through the fog, and through the mist
Bathed in their life I can't resist

The crushers are always haunting me
I'll save them all and then they'll see
they wont catch me, but I'll tell you this
I remove only those that nobody will miss

Through London's fog, I stalk her streets
Extermination's what I seek.
To cure this disease that plagues our land
I must make use of my skilled hand

They call me the reaper, the ripper, the lord
Of bodies, and souls, and organs reborn
These fools don't know what's at stake
treasure, a token I have to take.