Friday, November 13, 2015

7442. YOU'VE GOT TO THANK THE CEASELESS PANIC

YOU'VE GOT TO THANK 
THE CEASELESS PANIC
Well, Paris just ain't what it used to be : there's 
yellow-fin tuna sold in a stall and the killers are 
waltzing the stairway. How come we let bygones
be bygones when they're again right up front? I
can forgive nothing, or don't you understand.
-
Muzzle-headed Tangiers, and those madman 
who cherish the Alps. Kill them, kill them all,
I say. As in Vietnam's backward days  -  'There's
nothing like the smell of napalm in the morning.'
-
Ignore the border crossing and zone the malfeasants 
out : send them to their Heaven on  a fucking sled.

No comments: