It feels good when someone hates you

Because you occupy his head
So there will always be some foreign frontal lobe
That will remain forever you

When he drives his new merc through traffic
He sees you on the footpath & when you wave
He runs into the back of a police van

He believes in capital punishment
Because he wants it for you

Everytime he is alone
After his wife leaves (because of you)
& he wants to have a quick toss
Over the nude centrefold
In moron magazine,
The first thing that will pop up
Is an image of you
In fishnet stockings

When your children are
begging for change on the street
& a tabloid image of you
Glowers bleakly from the front page
Beneath the headline
MILLIONS STOLEN FROM ORPHANAGE,
He wants to be there

As you lie on your deathbed
He will attend because it is a marriage of sorts

When he dies the angel will wear your face
& he will be flayed by your
Sweet mercy

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