XXX

The last thing she said was nothing
The cold, callous heart of a fool
Bitterness and anger shut her mouth
She really was such a tool
A tool in the hand of a drunkard
Unreliable at the best
The head will fly right off the handle
If you press it against her chest
Her heart is a stone-cold anvil
So, she finds one that is not
She puts it on top of the anvil
And beats it with all that she’s got
She will break the heart that she’s beating
It might not recover again
But if it looks like its reheating
She’ll beat it just like there’s no end
But there is an end and its coming
The dread of all ungodly men
Except for the one that she’s beating
Because they see their death as a friend