In Cold Blood

WELCOME TO KANSAS

IN COLD BLOOD
KILLER TOWN
MIDWEST FILM NOIR
SANTA FE NIGHTMARE
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IN COLD BLOOD

The two killers—
shopped awhile in Emporia

Buying some rope & tape—
for murdering the Clutter family

On their way through town—
there at Haines Hardware

Then west to Holcomb—
desolate High Plains Hell

Dick Hickock & his buddy—
Perry Smith both ex-cons

Capote showing up later—
IN COLD BLOOD into a movie

At the Granada Theater—
up there on the Marquee

Emporia a Killer Town—
in a bloody Killer State
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KILLER TOWN

Raped by the Civil War—
Free State or Slave State?

Quantrill’s Raiders riding—
across the Missouri Border

Killing, burning towns—
just like the Kansans did

The only good Indian be—
a dead one Kansans said

Lorna Anderson killed—
her husband one dark night

The good Reverend Byrd killed—
his lovely wife in cold blood 

Hit her on the head with a—
Cheap bottle of Bonét champagne

Dumped her off the bridge—
down into the Cottonwood River
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MIDWEST FILM NOIR

Midwest film noir killers—
once a vast Inland Sea

Full of prehistoric monsters—
from the Gulf up to Canada

Fly Over State to most people—
Flying from NYC to LA

Danger lurks way down there—
Killer State full of the Living Dead 

All is not well in the Sunflower State—
pretty meadowlarks singing in Hell

Murder & Death lurking down there—
Killers kill & Breeders breed more

The more killers the better—
way down there in Tornado Alley

Just like Lorna Anderson & her—
Lover the good Reverend Byrd 

MURDER ORDAINED a fine Lutheran—
TV movie for the while family to watch

Popcorn, candy, a six-pack or two—
better than even a Sat football game!!!
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SANTA FE NIGHTMARE

Ain’t no Pot of Gold—
at the End of the Rainbow

Just ask dead Dorothy—
sitting on her toilet

Judy Garland found dead—
in her locked bathroom

Shooting up & then dying—
after overdosing herself

No Wizard of Oz anymore—
no more Wicked Witch of the East

No more Glenda the Good Witch—
no more magic Ruby Slippers

No More cute little Munchkins—
no more Lions, Tigers & Bears!

Just me getting born in Emporia—
plopped down by the Santa Fe tracks

My cow-patty shitty existence—
in that crummy little cow-town

In that fucked-up Fly Over State—
before I got the Fuck Outta There