by Nick Gisburne
It was vengeance, but no one could blame her
When she found he was trying to shame her
As the hate in her eyes
Ripped the tissue of lies
It was clear that no evil could tame her
As I storm every city and town
Watch me burn every inch of them down
When I throw you aside
Though you cower and hide
You will praise me and worship my crown
When the substance was put into gin
It exploded on contact with skin
But a blend with old whisky
Made everyone frisky
Production’s about to begin
She was sculpted with painstaking skill
A gargantuan effort of will
But the artist was old
And his studio cold
So she looks like a duck with a drill
I’m a zombie. I’m falling apart
I’m so hungry I’ve eaten my heart
And I’ve taken a look
There is nothing to cook
I could chop off an arm. It’s a start
She was branded, the miscreant’s mark
And forever ignored in the dark
But the one she accused
Was so quickly excused
That the contrast could not be more stark
There are virile young vampires outside
Each is looking to find a new bride
All the women have packed
And their husbands, now sacked
Beg for one final fumble. Denied
For the fortunate, favourite few
We provide an inedible stew
Those who ordered the duck
You are shit out of luck
It’s a dungeon, not dinner for two
There’s a train coming into the station
It’s the Devil’s Express to Damnation
If you paid for a seat
There are nibbles to eat
If you’re standing, prepare for castration
In this fragile but fortunate place
On a journey through infinite space
See the glorious light
In the stars of the night
And forget that you’re stuck with that face
