Making Things Explode

by The Interloper

The first explosion I did see,
Happened all because of me,
I flicked the match,
And lit the fuse,
A moltov cocktail filled with booze.

The next time was my sister’s hair,
A lighted match, a glowing flare,
The room was filled with blinding glare,
My dad came in starting to swear.

Not caring of my families qualm,
I rigged gas stations with Napalm,
And grinning madly like a fool,
I then blew up the pumps of fuel.

About that time the police came,
Hearing of my violent fame,
And now I sit in an asylum,
Drawing pictures of burning firemen.

 

Back to the Shrine