by Nick Gisburne
There is no question, you deserve to die
A sad, pathetic waste of human skin
If someone claims to hate you more than I
They’ll need a bigger voodoo doll, or pin
Your mother should have shot you in the head
Or bagged you up to throw you in a lake
A pile of meat and gristle, not quite dead
Your blank expression makes my eyeballs ache
A maggot owns more intellect than you
You have the wit and wisdom of a brush
Your imminent demise is overdue
I’d stab you, if I wasn’t in a rush
Each customer complaint will make you scream
So grab a phone, and welcome to the team
