Knife and Hatchet

I know this boy,
I know him well.
Heaven wouldn't have him,
So he hangs out in Hell.

I don't mind the heartache,
I don't mind the pain,
I don't mind his dead body,
I just mind the game.

He had another lover,
Of this I was certain.
So with my knife and hatchet,
And hid in the curtain.

As he was eating lunch,
And the was eating dinner,
I chopped and diced him up,
And tossed him in the binner.

I emptied out the garbage,
I threw it in the street.
Then I went to Fifth Avenue,
Where the lovers were to meet.

When she did show up,
I realized my fault.
It was his old mother,
Out to get a malt.

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"binner" is what my grandfather called a garbage can.