The time clock

I used to write of love and loss

until I killed my fucking boss

dismembered parts are strewn about

no longer listening to him shout

no more punching damn time clocks

in fact his heart is in my wok

his head now hangs upon my mantle

for him I burn a three wick candle

I drank to much high as a kite

he spoke to me, he said goodnight

have I lost my fucking mind

thinking of this silly rhyme

but then I woke in my prison cell

tormented dreams, my living hell...