Thursday, March 19, 2020

Matthew Must Die


My voices tell me that I am hope
I forgot to take my dosage of dope
Smoke wagon tucked in my pocket
Blast off like a motherfucking rocket
Roll into this rundown ghost town
The birthplace of slanderous sounds
My old foe has a price on his head
Bring him alive, but I prefer him dead
Some things are more important than coin
Like never forgetting that kick to the groin
Like never forgetting his evil laughter
And the bigoted slurs shortly thereafter
Has anyone seen my man Matthew?
I promise it’s all I’ll ever ask you
Drunk in the gutter is what you tell me?
Criminal rap sheet loaded with felonies?
Shoplifting and trespassing while stoned?
Burglarizing other people’s comfy homes?
Easier than shooting fish in a barrel
It’s time to make his gene pool sterile
Sure enough, he was a cinch to find
Drowning in a bottle of cheap wine
Scraggly beard no different from Chewie
The cigarette odor so thick and dewy
Every drug on the street in his system
Let’s find out if anyone will miss him
Pull out the smoke wagon and aim
Should I shoot to kill or shoot to maim?
Ah, who cares? He’s already dead
Among the living, but not in his head
He fucked up his life so very badly
That nothing else could be so damning
I give him another twenty-four hours
Before he dies in his own golden shower
I’m going home for the rest of the day
To my feline friend with whom I lay

No comments:

Post a Comment