Pulling No Punches

Written by: Keith Bickerstaffe



"Let me draw your bath, Sweet Face!"
(the space heater's perched upon the rim,
with some hydrochloric acid, just in case.)

My .45 revolver, my machete from Trelew
will come in very handy, lest 
the other two exigencies fall through.

I think I've thought of everything
except that creep you slept with,
I'll sneak up, and take him by surprise!  

Now the the only thing remaining,
harlot, bane of my existence,
is my holler of delight at your demise!