One, two, three, four,
Look who's here at the door!
Five, six, seven, eight,
I hope it's them, they're pretty late-
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
Their coat goes up on the shelves.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,
I hope they see a guillotine.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,
Now they're here, I'll hurt them plenty.

No use counting any more,
It's just making my brain quite sore.
I simply had to tell you more
Of they who turned life into war.
Made happy thinking quite a chore,
Right at my face they swore and swore.
Everything nice, hidden in a drawer,
Or scattered everywhere, all over the floor.
May someday beach up upon the shore,
May I fall asleep without a snore.

After
I found her in our house
I burnt it to the ground
one million times over.

That place
built for you
with mine own cells.
Created
with lavender walls
and rose petal front doors,
and you
hiding her among the weeds.

Constructing a home
out of paper airplanes
and coloured ties.
My heaven,
and yours,
frolic in the garden.

When I found her in our home,
our home became a house.
Her body
more than this mattress fills.
Her perfume
swells the vents.
This house
comes alive with her
prowess.
And I hate it here.

When
I found her in my house
all Hell
erected beneath me.
oh,
the futility
trying to **** someone
who is already dead to you.