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2 into 1

You think that your aged antiqueness
The clean lines and curves of your sleekness
In some strange ways exhibit uniqueness

And so it goes

I look into your darkening bleakness
All I see is your simpering Meekness
It�s an obvious sign of your Weakness

My ire grows

For you I have hate with a passion
Despite, that hate, is out of fashion
I have no more pity or compassion

My rage, it flows

Forgiveness I�ve run out of ration
Id� rather you dead, grey and ashen
I need my blade to start slashin

It�s came to blows

You�re no great tactician
To easily give your admission
Of your extra marital ambition

The hammer breaks your nose

I need no more ammunition
You satisfied all my suspicion
You now, have a date with the mortician

Time for you to decompose

And so it goes
My ire grows
My rage, flows
It�s came to blows
The hammer breaks your nose
Time for you to decompose