we’ll see the requiem
that’s rambling on and on
for all our pals who’ve gone
the path of decomposition.
and it smells to high heaven,
a place we’ve never went
but one day, we’ll waft up there
when our shits in total disrepair.
we won’t know anyone.
they’ll all be different.
but i’ll be like you,
apathy takes two.
the burial was blue
in relation to
the loss of the light of our lives,
an objection as to who survives.
and tend to my heart, okay?
make sure it doesn’t break
‘cos i can’t just pump these brakes,
there may be some moves to make.
but now I’m getting bored,
steps forward must go ignored
and i’m not going slow,
there will be a time to grow.
"now baby, is that true?
now baby, is that true?
stumbling is what you do.
you ain’t ever gonna break on through.
you hesitating.
the malefactor is escaping,
so throw the book at that motherfucker
or pull the goddamn trigger, you infant."
the escaped con is in my sights,
the malicious waste who killed my wife.
i nailed his ass twenty years ago,
now that getting even is
starting to show
but he doesn’t know
that my counterblow,
my fucking Van Gogh
is sown in his soul
that shitty hole,
my baby unborn
is unrecognizable.
but
i stole
two useful decades,
time he would spend
killing more babes
and interchanged it with
bad dicks and big shivs.
i made his existence
a deflowered abyss.