Whitechapel Testo

Dark streets are full of cold and heavy fog
Nightlife in a slum
Is the same as every night

Drunkards are drinking from bottomless bottles
Few whores on the pavement

Shadows are creeping around the brick walls
But one is holding
A sharp knife in his hand
Nothing to hear, only his silent steps
In dark and cold nights
His freezing breath

London side - Whitechapel
1888
London side - Whitechapel
1888

The clerk with his moustache
His give-aways
The whores keep talking
But don't know about the murders

Polly's neck cut down in a pool of blood
She was found dead
Near the stables next morning

About a week after the murder all're asleep From her lover home
Dark Anny is pacing

In the shadow of a lamp
Something is moving
Frightening her
A man in a dark cloak

London side - Whitechapel
1888
London side - Whitechapel
1888

Leather Apron
The spirit of morning streets
Writing from hell

Death is lurking
Fear all over London
Desperation

One day; two murders
Blood splash on the ground
Mary Ann Kelly and Long Liz knew each other

They are now dead
But madness goes ahead
The next was young Ginger
Sleeping her life is ended

London side - Whitechapel
1888
London side - Whitechapel
1888

Serial killer
They called him Jack the Ripper
Even today
We don't know who he was

Only a madman
An anathomist or a butcher
His identity
In time propably lost

Nobody knows
How many girls he killed
Maybe these five
Are not his full count

But he will stay
A legend among murderers
Mutilator

Jack the Ripper