I arrived at the scene unaware of the crime,
as the chief inspector, I should have known better,
right away my gut knew, this was no accident
rarely does anyone find gold in a river,
if we sift the water for decades, still nothing
vengeance is an apple, crisp, sweet and a touch sour,
every rule in the book goes against this outcome
despite the open door, no one dare go inside
as chief inspector, though, I enter nonetheless
terrible to stumble upon a torture scene
the aftermath, unreal, like a black and white film
honestly, to witness murders in the city
every day, one after another, homicide
scenes are never the same, similar but different
case by case, each warrants a specific approach
each time my method shifts in order to solve crimes
no one dares to question my eccentric treatment
even if a cold case never gets solved, who wins
unless I'm mistaken nobody lives here now
no one but guttersnipes, young punks with no future
as I enter, I call for back up to the house
wary of criminal elements remaining
as I suspect, no one inside except the corpse
routine procedure stands, I wait for Homicide
evidence must not be disturbed, even by me
ostensibly, I'm chief but the law is the law
for a woman murdered is not a pretty sight
take the case of my friend, her sister died this way
horrible as a child to learn about people
even the best of them have their predilections
crimes of passion, torture are rarely well-thought-out
ridiculous to check the pulse but I still do
if I can, to upset the scene is sacrilege
maybe she's still alive, no, no pulse can be felt
enter Homicide Squad, all sharp suits and no wit
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