If I were to say - or
if I were to express.
What I really think of you
in that white dress.
At the bottom of Tampa Bay.
Would it make you happy
would it make you glad -
would it fuck up your day.
To know that I was the one, who
slayed you, Honey Boo. When
I cut you through and through and
you and your eyes knew.
The blood red will go away in time
- right along with each and every tide.
Yes, my dear, I cried the day you died.
The Dress
No comments:
Post a Comment