once upon an april's day
i sat at my desk in my downtown flat
i typed and thought and was about to say
when this child shows up, this little brat
"hi little friend, are you lost? astray?"
"no" said the child, "but i'm a little sad"
"you see, my father, he lost his way"
"he yells and screams, he's like that, my dad"
i asked the child "did you run away?"
"you should really go back, you should do that"
"it gets worse" i heard the child say
and feared the story would end with a splat
"he really snapped when i didn't obey"
"so he went to the hall and brought the bat"
"first he smashed the painting by monet"
"then i think he killed the cat"
"i saw him approach, he was on his way"
"to end my life, he was really mad"
"so i grabbed a knife and decided to stay"
"and face my father in mortal combat"
oh dear oh dear, i hate to say
i told you so, it's such a cliche
the story ended with a splat
kill maim torture and slay
i still see him every other day
though all grown up he is today
he sits and plays with his knife
how i wish he'd just go away
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar