Hardboiled

His house is strung out of cobwebs And a dusty chandelier swings high Like a pendulum from the ceiling Below Each chalice marked with the names Of those he's disgraced A small trophy awards 'best in show' In the business of bad taste Somewhere outside The night-bus heaves downtown Windows flex and whisper Seats shudder firm Limbless beggars brushed off Like ash from a cigarette As December rolls on over the bad days You can't forget Yeah I've been cock-blocked by destiny And fist-fucked by fate But I'm slowly turning into everything I know that you hate These streets are a carcass We watch the flies buzz around that putrid belly Oozing maggots among tattered flesh With a million crooked fingers pointing You're next You're next You're next You're next You're next You're next You're next