2 August 2012
Sorry I'm late folks!
I'm a lover not a fighter But they push me to the edge; They make it hard to imagine There's any good left. They bathe in an ocean Of excess and greed, They don't care who else is there They just take what they need. Trample over, burrow under, Push and tear and shove, It's all about what they can get Not patience or honour or love. They're one bun short of a bakery And bicker among themselves, 85 stone between them And a schizo on their shelf. Sharp toothed and nailed and tongued, Benefit cheats clawing their way, Looting a dead woman's house, Never earned a day's pay. Pleading poverty at her deathbed, Nicking money here and there Then taking the very wallpaper And her clothes to wear. Asking after the very bleach Lurking under the sink; They'd take everything in the blink of and eye And would never even think. Beady-eyed and far too keen, Swindling us out of our rights, Insensitive and making this all A very uncomfortable fight. Never mind them grieving After a sister and aunt They're lamenting their failure to bag The floorboards and garden plants. Yes, I'm a lover not a fighter But this is way too far; Snappy, rude and thieving Cross me again if you dare. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
1) Lover • Opuss № I