deepundergroundpoetry.com
U.S. of A.
Living in America ain't all that great.
I killed my husband, though I think it was fate.
He was a racist bastard, who only loved his girl.
Not me, the whore he cheated on me for.
Oh well, he's gone now, taking a nap 6 feet under.
And I'm here in a jail cell, laughter roaring like thunder.
I killed my husband, though I think it was fate.
He was a racist bastard, who only loved his girl.
Not me, the whore he cheated on me for.
Oh well, he's gone now, taking a nap 6 feet under.
And I'm here in a jail cell, laughter roaring like thunder.
Published 20th Jul 2013
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20th Jul 2013 6:47pm
3rd Dec 2013 7:14pm
