They only said that he was dead they broke his heart he fell apart
But now you pray and every day
You smash his face
To keep your pace
See the hockey stick
Smash the little prick
Teach him just why
His kind have to die
When were you
Now you are
I wish
You'd leave
On your sleeve
Like a painting
By Vettriano
Amuses your sort
In your medieval fort
Little boys
Playing with mortal toys