Must You? Retard.

Clicking the mouse did you plot
drawings to be printed from the slot;
"nothing will happen", and so i thought
when your chatters they distraught
and your petulance makes my blood clot
even scribbling on papers i share-not
You muted the music i liked a lot
it disfigures the patience i got
keeping you now but just another faggot.


You bloody dopey
looking just like Mr.Potatohead the loony,
in your eyes it's all about money
not even close to looking twenty
talking with a senseless flimsy,
booting my computer I save not firstly,
and a "sorry" was my hope all falsely
making me hate you fervently
as i dedicate this to you Sopie.