I’ve got an axe to grind, so am sharpening it
on the wheel of my wit — hey;
blunt-force-trauma’s enough to a **** a man.

Who, by right, should’ve been an abortion.
I’d unflinchingly watch dogs
rip him to pieces.

In-fact I’d whistle
and call more dogs. But I
wouldn’t be the only one doing this.

If we were in space
I’d smash his visor
then ****** when he pops.

If this were to happen
it would, just mean that
I got there first.

If he were dangling off a cliff
to the bottom I would race
inflate a mattress to safely catch.

But I’d fill it with rocks and knives  
just to be sure.
To be sure, to be sure!