Who dun it?

Oh to commit murder,
to strangle with these hands,
to steal from man the breath of life
and flee to far off lands.

Oh to commit murder,
and suck the devil's teat.
And render from what was mortal
a worthless lump of meat.

Oh to kill, to slay, to murder,
to wash my hands in blood,
And then escape from justice,
escape the pools of mud.

Oh the thrill of the hunted
and wanton gains are mine.
For the craving is oh so sweet
to drink this bitter wine.

I would rend the man and the babe,
the gentle suckling kid.
And with their deaths increase my fame!
And not a single thing be hid.

My crime would be a thrill to tell
a driving force of diction
and my victim would be nothing more
than a shambling work of fiction.