My Satan Poem

Satan shows up on TV every Sunday morning

I would have kissed her once again but I found her rather boring

To listen to his messages

Is like licking razor blades

Seems like every time I play my hand shits commn' up in spades

My clothing's nothing buy miss matched

As you can see I broke my arm

The FUCKER swore to take care of me

But he only brought me harm

The blueberries on my toast

Are red and stale and rotten

You ask me what all their names were and its guaranteed id forgotten

If she could only anticipate the damage that's begun

I would have caught the flight with her but I'm too tired to run

When you find my naked body

Please do heed my warning

Satan shows up on TV every Sunday morning