loc+LOAD

Apoplectic dread-locked and loaded
Listening to Skindred when I should have Depeche Moded
Unkind responses then I'm troll hunting
Chopping up and dress the room in green solstice bunting

Under the gin-fluence and before I can think
Fire off a defensive deluge and take another drink
Buying into their provocative kind regards
Playing right in to those green skinned fucktards

Take a step back out of this head lock
These Tolkien fantasy creatures continue to mock
Masquerade like a fantasy race of uber evolved mass-debaters
Leaving climactic deposits of obvious blatant haters

My mind grid-locked and perpetually goaded
Listening to the distillers when I should have Depeche Moded
Trolls remind me of the archetypal CHAV in the park
Who peppers hate with another race related remark

Council House And Violent facets of me
Trollac wireless keyboard typers hide away so easily
Brave so many miles away show their disrespect
A negative syntax seems their only reason to interject

Chill for now, dreaded, still kinda loaded
Locked into a conversation and eventually I am goaded
Not appropriating another's cull-chore, a Viking/Celtic mix-blood
A personal reflective culture that's occasionally misunderstood

Still troll hunting till the morning light
They all turn to stone and type no more shite
Calm, dread-locked, mocked, lock and load
Listening to La Roux then perhaps next Depeche Mode