You hate Mexicans so you killed one because you're consumed by hate.
When I think about your personality, it's too horrible to contemplate.
You hated that man because of the color of his skin.
Your life has been ruined because of the trouble that you're in.

Another reason why you killed him was because he got promoted instead of you.
He had more experience than you and murdering him was a stupid thing to do.
You committed ****** because of the hatred you've been consumed by.
You're pathetic, you have no right to choose who lives and who dies.

As it turned out, that man had a heart of gold.
That poor man had a wife and a two year old.
You allowed hate to consume you and it took its toll.
Now you're doing life without the possibility of parole.

You're not truly dead just as long as people remember you.
And if I have my way, that is exactly what people will do.
Your role as a mother began in 1967 and ended in 2013.
Your death was devastating, it was the worst thing I've ever seen.

When the doctor said you would probably die, my brother and I were afraid.
You were a fantastic and caring mother for four and a half decades.
My brother and I were the only two children that you had.
When you passed away, I was miserable and it was so sad.

I feel better now but your death has left a scar.
It's great to know that Heaven is where you are.
Back in 2013, we were miserable because you passed away.
If you were still alive, I would wish you a happy Mother's Day.

I got revenge but it was a hollow victory.
Instead of getting pleasure, it horrified me.
Last year, a man ***** and murdered my little sister.
The pain is unbearable and I sure have missed her.
That punk got off because he was related to the Kennedys.
His underhanded lawyer convinced a jury to set him free.
When he came home last week, I used a knife to disembowel him.
I leapt out from behind some bushes and his death was grim.
I thought his death would make me feel really good.
But killing him didn't please me like I thought it would.
It shocked and horrified me, I feel even worse than I did before.
What I'm feeling on the inside is just too much for me to ignore.
I'm going to turn myself in no matter what punishment it brings.
I've learned the hard way that revenge isn't a good thing.

You come into my house and try to cram political correctness down my throat.
I'm sick and tired of hearing you run your big mouth, you're on a sinking boat.
You try to tell me how to talk and how to believe.
You're not welcome in my house, you'd better leave.
You won't force your views on me.
You say that my lifestyle is wrong but I don't agree.
You continue to run your mouth and you refuse to stop.
You're refusing to leave so now I'm going to call the cops.
When I put you in jail, you certainly won't be missed.
You call yourself politically correct but I call you a fascist.

I fight injustice in the West and help people who are in danger.
When my brother was murdered, I became the Lone Ranger.
I bring outlaws to justice wherever I go.
I couldn't do it without the help of my Indian sidekick Tonto.

People constantly think that I'm an outlaw because I wear this mask.
They want to take it off but they learn that removing it isn't an easy task.
Tonto and I always beat the bad guys by using our wits and our fists.
When we're done, the outlaws have handcuffs slapped on their wrists.

I ride Silver who is my trusty steed.
We always help those who are in need.
I only use silver bullets and so far Tonto and I haven't failed.
We will always protect the innocent and send outlaws to jail.

When I ordered Welsh Rabbit, a rabbit wasn't included.
The restaurant ripped me off, that was what I concluded.
All that I was served was some cheese on toast.
I soon learned that the chef wasn't a nice host.
I wanted a rabbit and that was what I demanded.
He threw me out the door because he said I needed to be reprimanded.
i was upset at that chef so I decided to enter his restaurant again.
When he was through I thought they'd have to call my next of kin.
He burned my **** with his stove and hit my head with a frying pan.
I soon learned that when that chef gets riled, he's a dangerous man.
If you order Welsh Rabbit at his restaurant and ask for a rabbit, he will say no.
And for your own safety you should leave his restaurant peacefully, just let it go.

She was 79 years old when she passed away.
She was my aunt and her name was Ina Mae.
When a relative passes away, it's always sad.
Ina Mae was the only blood aunt that I had.

She was special and she was Mom's only sister.
Many people loved her and many will miss her.
She was a wonderful lady and a loving mother.
She had a bond with her five kids who loved her.

She was a human being who can never be replaced.
She and mom are in Heaven which is a better place.
When she died in 2017, it was bleak.
Ina Mae was both special and unique.