Yeah, he’s got skeletons in the closet.
He’s a collector of the dearly departed,
But homie’s disorganized, shouldn’t have started.
A hundred guests and they’re all ghosting,
While he’s on the dark web daily boasting.
No respect for the dead, just a messy aesthetic,
Body parts piled up, it’s truly pathetic.
Found a skull in the sink, a rib in the rug,
He’s a sloppy-Joe ghoul with a grave-digging drug.
He’s the Sloppy Snatcher, the Bone Collector,
Needs a maid and a health inspector!
Dig ‘em up, stack ‘em high,
One hundred bodies, zero feng shui,
Taking the trash-room to a whole new way!
Watch your step, don't trip on a tibia.
It’s getting weird, it’s getting trivia.
He didn’t want ‘em back, he wanted a hoard,
Now he’s facing the judge and looking real bored.
Check your locks before the stench increases.
Clean up on aisle nine...
