The battle is what life's about,
We materialize to fight it out.

Others say our god is love.
Our love of death, the smell of blood.

Therefore, perhaps killing should be justified by eating the entire body of the dead person you just killed, or if you don't eat it in time and it gets bloated and moldy to the point you'd probably die if you actually consumed it, rotting in jail for years until you chew off your right hand until there's nothing left but bones, but you're still alive, and you let the bones hang off the end of your hand while you walk around the earth, regreting your violent crimes because there are bones that everybody can see that are your bones and they're your bones of regret that constantly show on the outside, but they're also deep inside as you walk around pointlessly, while it's clear to everybody that you're the worst- quite easy to see, when you've eaten off the flesh of your own hand for killing a man.