Drinks With an Ex*

We sat in the window
Of a little downtown bar
And you spoke of your new life
New love and new car.

You rambled for hours
As I pretended to care
But the truth was you bored me
And you just weren't aware.

I suffered in silence
As you talked, talked and talked
When finally I’d had enough
So I decided to walk.

You smirked when I rose
To put on my coat
But stopped cold when I reached out
And went for your throat.

I suppose that we're finished
With these infernal chats
Since I'm locked up in prison
And you’re buried at St. Matt’s.

The fact is it was worth it
To put an end to your crap
Even though I’ll do life here
While you take your dirt nap.

It’s not that I’m violent
Or not a good listener
It’s just that I’m a poor saint
And you’re the daughter of Lucifer!

* I've heard tales the reason the old horseback circuit rider, John Wesley, spent so much time in the saddle was because his wife, Molly (as he reportedly said) was the "Daughter of Satan." That story is probably hogwash, but when the legend is better than the truth, print the legend! Anyway, that tale inspired this little bad boy.