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Bees will fly from forests quickly back into their burning nest,
horses, handsome, strong or sickly, seek the sanctuary's rest,
men will break their word each Sunday, honest thoughts evaporate,
Yes, I knew the man, Ted Bundy, enemy of the great state.
Blood attracted him forever, like a moth into the flames,
eighteen months this evil, clever predator played cruel games.
Issaquah, a town of miners, had its soul ripped from its chest
there among the outdoor diners, one unwanted, brilliant guest.
You were pleasant, Ted, you picked me, off the road and took me back,
others, those you later tricked, see, died and rotted by the track.
No remorse was found within then, and you paid the final price,
once you said it could be thin men, who were born as cold as ice.
We had many loud dicussions, in the Pub at Mercer Isle,
I recall you hated Russians, gave the Blacks a country mile.
Jurisprudence was your forte, no one ever beat your grades,
on the marble it says MORTE, covered by the green of blades.
Herbert Nehrlich
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