Little me the killer I
Me assassinated
Thee elusive butterfly

Poor poor Lilly
Tattered and torn
Been this way
From the day
She was born,
Had a family
Of  Jackals  and
Nasty Crows
No one took interest
In poor Lillies woes.
Life was hard there
Was no relief
The abuse got bad
Went beyond belief.
Lilly had a white dress
It was her party
Her 21st
She invited all her family
To quench their thirst.
Everybody was there
Abusers and all
Then to her,
she made
The right call
She stood on the table
And with aplomb
Pressed the button on
Her phone and off
Went the bomb.
The house of the Jackals
The house of the Crows
There now a piece of land
Where nothing grows.

Gingerbread men
On LSD
Creating art work
For you and me
Picasso Monet
Turner Van Gogh
Brilliant artists
Till their heads
Fell off.
Gingerbread men
Are living today
Painting artwork
In a different way.
The art world holds
Them all aloft
Without LSD
Their heads fall of.

Yes Im leaving
Of you trot
Don’t  forget
To take your
baby in the cot.
Parenting skills
Are not on  my CV
Paternal instincts
Are lost in me.
With you I felt as a team
Me you
and the baby
Living a dream.
Now your leaving
And of you trot
Take the baby
And the ****** cot.

Coming home
From a fruitless war
My minds playing tricks
Every turn
Becomes a shut door,
A battered orange
A battered pear
Seems to me no one cares.
I was bad now they want
Me to be good
No consequences
And misunderstood,
Bad blood running
Through my veins
A fruitless war will
Drive you insane.
Hospital days
Giving me sweet pills
Im still dead in the head
No happiness no thrills.

Have you had
One of them days,
He’s packed his bags
Not left a note
Just walked out
With his hat and coat.
He’s not all there what
Dos he think
He’s left washing up
In the sink.
Have you had
One of them days
I shall not fret
Im going to the
bookmakers and have a bet.
No more slamming of
The door shut I am
Putting television on
Sitting on my ****.
He will come back
Lured by the scent of the rose
Looking glum
Looking dimmer
Then the **** can cook my dinner.

Afraid of you
Yes I am
Your like a grenade
In a bake bean can.
Volatile excited loon
Your the lead weight
Inside a big fat balloon,
Your the fire from
The lighted candle
Very lovely to hard
To handle.
Electric wire
In a bucket of water
I think I’d be hung up and
Lovingly tortured.
For me you sweetheart
To many ifs and buts,
So Im going to decline
And you can keep
Your legs shut.