.
Like two-legged vengeance,
Lost somewhere in the hate-maze's
East wing.
You set the mood music
And do a quick dance
With the girl in the alley.
Just you and she and a letter opener to beat all.
Didn't anyone ever tell you, dearie,
That's no way to treat a lady?
.
Apocalypse with a pocket watch.
Patron Saint of empty smiles
And hypocritic oaths.
Fix the halo to your head
With barbed wire
And heal the sick with your stainless steel touch.
Then don your death's head of papier-mâché,
(for evening wear)
And spice up life a little
By reminding certain women of its brevity.
Someone should have told you, love,
You've no right to play God,
Your part has already been
Cast down.
.
Time isn't a very good place
To hide in, is it?
Nowhere to run in the end.
People can be shaken, but
Demons cannot.
Listened to its whispers too long,
And understood
Too late.
Now, let your icicle eyes turn sad
As you look to what you might have been,
And nod to the executioner in spats.
Nothing left to do but
Embrace oblivion
And forget the idea you might be missed.
.
Expect no tearful eulogies
Over time-scattered remains.
Take another's happy ending
In lieu of a good-bye.
For someone should have told you, sweetheart,
Nobody cries for the dead,
And nobody sings for the Dutchman.
.