I want my money back,
I don't want a bi-product
Of your regrets and strife,
It's nothing short of scandalous;
It's larceny of life.
Here is my receipt,
Look here into my eyes.
Look at my 18 year old pregnant wife,
I demand an explanation
To this larceny of life.
The Ghost of Christmas Past
Brought many a cheerful scene
But that won't pursuade me to retract this knife,
There lies no future happiness
Thanks to larceny of life.
I will burn down your home
(I don't have one of my own)
I'm seeing red,
My budgie's dead
Now remove these shackles and stones.
I don't wish to read the words
Of Nostradamus because they hurt,
Straight from sleep my spine will writhe,
I don't want another part
Of this larceny of life.
It's not the way it's got to be,
Don't try and palm me off with that one,
Constant asphyxia is rife
And now i'm malcontent
With my larceny of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem