Yesterday I finally met my maker
The messenger he come cloaked in black
His weathered sleeves harbored the most horrendous news
My ears had ever heard in all their years
I told him piece to his nose Sir
Get down on those knees of yours
Chew on the barrel of my gun
I shot him dead
Square in the head
And left him to die
In cold blood
As I walked way
His final cry
Child what have you done
To which I replied
No offense to you my sir
Everyone's just got their own idea of fun