Laila Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Dear Delilah

My, my dear Delilah I was drunk and fell on the floor
there I saw your lover hiding under the couch.
My, my dear Delilah I slit his throat with a knife
there was so much blood on the floor you got
a mop and tried to clean it up before the blood
was running down to the next level.
But I run away before there was a knock on
the door I couldn`t take anymore I feel sick
when I see so much blood, forgive me, dear Delilah
for you got twenty years in the goal.